Actions and Consequences
by Lillz
Summary: AU My Uni. Young POV. Rush has rejoined the Destiny crew, but will his reappearance sow the seeds of dissension? A difficult journey of self contemplation, discovery and understanding. Some rifts are too deep to heal, but sometimes its trying that counts
1. Returning

Yo, my lovelies. This is unexpected, no? I had fully intended to have a break from writing, but then this appeared. It's going to be multi chapter; I already have most of the second one written! So, not only had I not planned on writing, but my one-shot idea has gone straight out the window. I'm doing well, aren't I? Ah well, it's fun!

I hope ya'll enjoy. This picks up just before Reflection and through it, though it'll continue long past, I don't know yet how far. A few chapters at least. We follow Colonel Young this time, who turns out to be a very interesting character. For those of you that hate him, sorry, but no Young-bashing, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was chatting with Tiger, and we've both realised that there is a helluva lot more to this man than meets the eye. He's a very contradictory character, very complex- we think we know about him, but I'm not sure anything is quite what it seems. There are moments on the show that reveal something else entirely. Wait until y'all see 'Sabotage' (Snickers. I've gone from being behind to being ahead. Gotta love Youtube :-p) it's the little things, the nuances.

So, this time we explore his character and personality. Let me know what you think! Reviewing is massively appreciated, especially given that he's turned out to be a difficult character to capture, and I'd like your opinions.

PLEASE READ THIS BIT: a note on the story structure and formatting. thanks to Celtic Lady for pointing these out, I'm a schmuck for forgetting to say it! i did in the last story... I'm using UK English, rather than American English, so a lot of my spelling may be different to what some of you are used to. (Word auto corrects in UK, rather than American, I'm afraid) We tend to use 's' rather than 'z' (realise), and we have a lot of useless double letters (dialling, rather than dialing) sorry if any confusion arises! I hope it more makes sense now.

also: use of italics. a common theme throughout my stories is that italics have been used to distinguish thoughts. This still holds true. However, itallics are also used to emphasis a point (particularly now in this story when there will be many people trying to get their point across), when someone is stressing a word to give it greater effect. When this occurs, the will form part of a sentence enclosed in speech marks. This is actually someone talking, but emphasising their words.

And yes, I have shamelessly plugged some of CL's ideas into the story! Thanks, my lovely!

Not mine. Not ever. Unless of course they want scriptwriters…

- - - - - - o0o - - - - - -

"According to _Destiny, _we have an 'M'-Class planet."

He blinked. _A what?_ Turning, he fixed the young mathematician with a frown.

"Umm, sorry. Never mind. Err, basically breathable, good environment, stable, water, you know."

_He couldn't have just said that, why?_ Face expressionless, the Colonel nodded.

"Okay. Dial it up, we'll send a Kino through. No point in taking chances," he elaborated when Eli opened his mouth to question. Given the way their luck had gone recently, it'd be just typical to get there and find the atmosphere had become toxic at some point in the last million years. Besides, protocol was protocol. He watched the younger man a moment, thoughtful. He looked tired, irritated- always worrying in someone who was usually so exuberant. A heavy burden had, admittedly, been placed upon his shoulders by Young himself; solving the puzzle that had been Rush's work had proved an exercise in frustration for him. So much of the detail had been beyond even the other members of the science team, yet the mathematician had ploughed doggedly onwards and made some, albeit small, progress, the work consuming his waking hours when he wasn't delving into _Destiny's _systems.

Things weren't easy between them anymore, and he felt that loss. More than that, Eli had been questioning him recently, and with growing frequency; gone was the child who blithely followed orders, glad to have something to do and a chance to play with his 'toys'. In his place was appearing an increasingly-mature young man, one who thought occasionally before he acted; who, it seemed, questioned sometimes for the sake of questioning. _Much like someone else I knew._ Oh, the jovial manner was still there, but there was an edge to it now, with him at least, that had gradually developed over the last few weeks, a faint air that reminded Young of his cantankerous predecessor. As if summoned, he could feel Rush at his shoulder, that mysterious, contemptuous half-smirk half-sneer twisting the thin lips. The smile that said 'I have a secret.' The one the scientist reserved just for him.

_Is that man ever going to stop haunting me?_

Turning, banishing the ghost, his gaze caught Camille Wray, standing alone by the entrance to the Gate-room. He nodded, before continuing on to watch the Stargate. That was another relationship that had become even more strained in the last month; there was no buffer between them now, hadn't even realised there had been one until it was gone. She had yet to openly accuse him, but it was on her mind, and it was only a matter of time before she came out and said it. It was there, though, the unspoken accusation, and he knew that she knew that _he_ knew it. They had never been in the same camp, far from it, and eventually she would make a power play of her own. Not an eventuality he was looking forward to, but one that was inevitable. He had yet to decide what to do about it. About _her. _Stifling a sigh, he fought down the urge to shift impatiently.

"Is there a problem?"

Nothing was happening.

"Err, no. Hang on."

Not a response he wanted to hear. Another problem. Three weeks, and they were still just scraping by. Even with Eli concentrating on the Notebook, and the science team working round the clock, simply just repairing the systems they knew about and keeping them working was agonisingly slow, never mind starting on anything new. Sometimes, quite often, in fact, it felt like one step forward, three steps back. There were a great many things he could say about Rush, none of them pleasant, but the bitter truth was the man _had_ been worth the rest of the scientists put together. _Damn him. _He pushed aside the guilt thoughts of the Doctor always brought.

"Got it." The youths' relief was audible.

Captivated, time became suspended as he watched the ring begin to spin.

"Every time," came a soft voice. To his left, unnoticed, stood Lieutenant Tamara Johansen. He made a noise of agreement; the Stargate was spectacular, the science and technology behind it was mind blowing. To be able to create a stable wormhole that could disintegrate you one side, and recreate you on the other, on a completely different planet…it was incredible. With a whoosh, the wormhole exploded into life, expanded, like air underwater, and settled into the rippled event horizon that connected them to the planet below.

He felt her move away, her departure palpable. Swallowing, he turned; acknowledging the arrival of Lieutenant Scott and Sergeant Greer with a nod, he ordered Eli to send the Kino. He tracked its' movement through the air until it disappeared, and waited.

"Okay, we have nice blue skies, fluffy clouds, grass, trees, _lots_ of trees, breathable air, perfect temperature, warm, average humidity, _oh my God!"_

To his shock, Eli made a run for the Gate. By far faster than the young man, Greer quickly stepped forward and caught his arm, slowing his passage and spinning him round.

"Let me go!" Eli demanded.

"What the hell-" Greer jerked him backwards, thoroughly bewildered and making no attempt to hide it. Given that a confused Greer was usually an angry one, Eli scowled, evidently irritated at having to take the time to explain.

"You're not going to believe this-" Young glanced in Brody's direction, where he remained clutching at the console. The scientist looked over at Eli; at any other time his expression would have been cause for amusement, but not now.

"How…" His voice was drowned out by the excited chattering of a few of the crew who had gathered at his shoulder to see what the commotion was over.

"_Enough!_"

Silence; everybody froze, turning to stare at the Colonel. _Good._ What the hell was going on? Scott looked up from the display, which he'd moved instantly to, wide-eyed and shocked.

"Sir…it's Doctor Rush, Sir. There. On the planet. He's…_waving!"_

The announcement hung in the air, stunning enough to make the Sergeants' grip go slack, and Eli pulled away. Murmuring rose, words indecipherable; had they been clearer, he still wouldn't have been able to understand them. He felt rooted to the spot, frozen, numb mind trying to comprehend the impossible. _Rush?_ His gut tightened. _How was that even possible? _He could feel the weight of many eyes settle upon him, confused, stunned, accusatory; didn't need to look at Wray to know what she was thinking. A word broke through.

"TJ," the young mans' voice cracked, and, compounded with the look he threw her, Everett knew it wasn't good. Both were moving quickly toward the Gate without a word. Galvanised into action, he knew better than to attempt to countermand them, choosing to mimic their actions instead. He quickly took charge, barking orders, ignoring the panic that clawed at him, and wondering at the tiny, distant voice that whispered its relief.

"Scott, stay here. Brody, Greer, Dunning, with me."

He moved forwards, knowing they would follow. His mind was racing too fast to think as he passed through the Stargate, and he stamped down firmly on the nervousness fluttering in his belly. No way was he showing weakness in front of that man. Unwarranted anger began to bubble inside as they crossed the glade, and he fought it down; he could hardly blame the man for surviving, an amazing achievement given the odds. Still, it was there, turning over in his mind. _Damn it_. His being back now could destroy everything. Just one word and the fragile calm that had settled would explode. There was no telling what Rush would do, what he would say. Even if he weren't being selfish, which he privately admitted he was, people were just getting used to his absence, just getting over _another_ loss. _Perhaps it would raise morale_. Maybe. Even so…he would be forced to face himself, view in person the bitter consequences of his own actions.

_Leaving him was perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done. And the most shameful._

Not at the time, certainly. There had only been rage, a primal creature goaded into existence by a man he then left to die. But after, in the quiet dark when he'd calmed and had time to reflect…he'd _never _before been driven to such conduct, nor anything remotely similar. He didn't know how Rush did it- the man sent him repeatedly to and then finally over an edge he'd never even realised was crossable. He would have gone to his grave, once, never believing himself capable of such an act. Maybe that was it; Rush was a warped mirror, he showed him the worst parts of himself, dug them up and laid them out where he couldn't ignore them, clear for him to see. The scientist had a knack, a gift, for knowing where the knife would cut deepest, and used it to full effect. And then, that final act Young had been driven to upon that planet had damaged a part of himself, perhaps irreparably. _An unintended bonus, Rush._ He'd abandoned honour, dignity, pride, all in one terrible, unintentional blow- Everett had been shown he wasn't the man he believed himself to be, and he could no longer convince himself otherwise. _He brings out the worst in me. And he knows it._

He wondered if he'd ever forgive himself. He doubted he'd ever forgive Nicholas Rush.

_Why not? He only showed you who you really are, after all…_

Things had to change. They _would_ change, if he had to beat it into that man personally. He doubted this little sojourn was enough to teach Rush _any_ humility, but maybe, just maybe he'd be shaken enough to behave. For a while at least. That wasn't too much to hope for, surely? _I guess that depends on whether he wants payback._

He watched as TJ fell to her knees, her figure obscuring that of the Doctors', rooting through her medical kit even before she'd settled. She was reaching over the recumbent figure when Eli caught up scant seconds later, practically dancing at her side. The Colonel recognised hyperactivity when he saw it, born of a combination of excitement and nerves, and he fidgeted incessantly; a small smile quirked his lips as his spirits lifted, however briefly.

"Took ye long enough. What did ye do? Sightsee along the way?"

Yep, that was Rush alright. _I guess he hasn't learnt anything. _A shame. He wasn't looking forward to putting him in his place. Or trying to, anyway. It wasn't like he'd succeeded so far. A voice drew him back as they approached.

"Well I'll be damned," Greer drawled, quietly.

_I think I already am._

Conversation floated past him, but he ignored it- Rush bitching was nothing new. Eli finally broke in, asking the burning question as they drew up to the pair, and his words instantly held Young's attention.

"You're alive! How'd you survive it? Talk about lucky!" Panic rose, and he found he was holding his breath. No immediate answer was forthcoming, though, and Eli, unable to stay silent long enough, continued:

"The landslide! We all thought you were dead!"

There. It was out. Moving so he could see Rush over TJ's shoulder, his breath caught for a second time, though for completely different reasons. His movement had attracted the Doctor's attention; half-dead eyes shifted to his and for a long moment they simply stared at one another. He couldn't read that expression, had never seen it before in anyone, and it wasn't anger that stirred within him now - that swiftly died - but something else, something he couldn't identify. Something he would never of associated with Rush.

"'Oh. Luck, as you say."

Luck. A single word, and he was exonerated. For the time being, at least. They continued to stare as TJ worked. Brody hesitantly made his was over before kneeling, clearly uncertain, and jumped when Rush raised his left hand, passing him something. His right never shifted, curved as it was over a peculiar metal sphere. Greer and Dunning split out to secure the area, though if Rush had indeed been here for the better part of a week as he claimed, unmolested, it was doubtful there was anything dangerous in the area. He was, after all, in absolutely no state to defend himself. Everett remained where he was, gaze never drifting from the brown one he was locked with. Not able to.

_If _you're_ lucky, he may die anyway…_

There was no denying it, even as horror coursed through him at such a thought. The man was a mess, and he repeatedly heard TJ hiss and murmur soft apologies as she picked her way through the ruin. Where did one start? The bruises looked worse than they were- he knew from experience that when they began healing they would turn into a truly impressive rainbow of colours. His face was laid open, though, exposing puffy, inflamed flesh, along the jaw, visible beneath the beard, and across his right eye which was swollen and discoloured. The hair was matted back, and dried blood crusted the hairline, though he'd evidently made some attempt to tidy himself up - his skin was relatively clean. In comparison, his clothing was tattered and filthy, but Young had the distinct impression the man wouldn't have been able to strip in order to clean his clothes, and washing them while wearing them was to invite pneumonia into a body completely unable to fight it.

"There's plenty o' food here."

He jerked slightly, startled by the softly spoken and unexpected intrusion, loud in the silence, and he was forced to re-focus on the other mans' face. Rush's expression didn't change; if he took some pleasure in startling the other man, it didn't show. _Maybe he _has_ learnt something after all._

Raising the radio, he called for Lieutenant James to organise a Gathering and bring them through. As he watched the dark eyes closed, and Rush leant his head back against the tree propping him up. He allowed his gaze to travel, then, trying to take in the rest with a mind unable to comprehend anything to do with this man right then. He saw TJ carefully peel at the combat pants of his left calf _–bare feet? –_ which were burnt and blackened with blood. She gave up; it would have to be soaked off, as would a lot of the material, he expected. Gouges _–claw marks? Good grief-_long and deep and infected, disappeared up into the ragged remains of his right sleeve. Fingers were obviously broken; even more obviously, they would need resetting. He didn't envy TJ that. _I'll do it._ He blinked.

Metal at each wrist caught his eye and he couldn't stop staring.

"They came back."

_They._ The owners of the shuttle- there was no other explanation. Raising his head, he found Rush looking at him, head still back and eyes half closed.

"I can't treat him here. We need to get him back to the infirmary."

Grateful for the distraction he turned to the medic, concentrating on her. He nodded, though she didn't see; already she was re-packing the bag, all brisk and efficient, hiding her pain in action. He wondered briefly if there _was _anything she could do. He felt gooseflesh rise on his arms; his scalp prickled. Rush dying a second time could prove devastating to the crew. The man may not be popular -at all- but they'd come to realise how necessary he was, and if he passed away now, so soon after being found…

"Eli."

As Rush spoke the name, Young realised the young man had fallen silent, maybe some time ago. He hadn't noticed. The Math-Boy instantly shuffled close to the other mans' side, eager to help yet fearful in equal measure. With considerable effort, Rush heaved the sphere up and onto his lap, completely oblivious to the fact that it should have been impossible to use that hand, and rolled it across to his protégée.

"It's damaged. Plasma burst. Dunna know how bad."

That was it. Even as Eli began to ramble excitedly –he caught the words 'Ancient technology' and 'interface'- it was evident that Rush was beginning to flag. The accent had grown thicker, a sure indication that he was tired, and he was mumbling; never a good sign. Hearing TJ's soft voice asking him to help her, he moved forward; with Brody's aid they carefully manoeuvred him to his feet where he swayed for one heart stopping moment, sagging, before gathering himself and moving off, as though prepared to leave them behind. _He probably would, too._ Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him; when Rush committed to a choice he followed it to the end, stubborn, belligerent, arrogant man that he was.

_What's the bet that's the reason he's still alive, though?_

He didn't wait for their support as they began walking; certainly, he didn't seem to expect it. It was with an irritated huff that TJ fell in beside him, catching his arm gently to steady him, and the Doctor looked to her in surprise, though he accepted her touch willingly. _Another bad sign._

"Oh!"

He spun quickly, alert, in time to see Eli straighten, a hefty firearm in his free hand. Approaching quickly, he reached out for it, relieved when the young man didn't question handing it over. It was unexpectedly heavy, and clearly not Ancient. The grip was designed for a hand larger and broader than his own, and the moulding indicated three fingers. He scratched his thumbnail against what appeared to be peeling paint, winced when he recognised it was actually dried blood. Glancing at Eli, he realised he knew it too; he'd gone somewhat green. Young didn't fancy pointing out that the same dark smears marred the sphere the young man carried…

Young sighed silently, tucked the weapon under his arm. "Come on, kid."

Moving out after the trio, it took less than half a minute to reach them; it was evident that even an assisted slow pace was proving difficult. He saw with a start a second, identical sidearm hooked through the scientists' belt, a knife beside it; a moment of deliberation, and he decided to leave alone. Shaking his head at Eli, who had also noticed, was enough for the youth to fall silent, though he was frowning.

"Sweet."

The voice behind them caught him by surprise, and he twitched a smile; often it was the little things in life that were unexpectedly amusing, and Greer's obvious admiration of the weapon struck him as particularly humorous. He knew the other man to be, whilst a very good soldier, somewhat trigger happy, and he had a fine appreciation of weapons of all sorts, particularly projectile based ones. In truth, he knew Greer believed the bigger the better, though Young had once felt compelled to point out that the old Browning Hi-Power, despite its' flaws, was a much better sidearm than a Colt 1911 as far as he was concerned. Now, the Sig Sauer, on the other hand…

That had been a pleasant afternoon, he reflected. If felt like a lifetime ago.

He smiled again.

"I might let you play with it later. Stay, both of you," he told the Sergeant, tilting his head at Dunning. "I'll have Scott bring through a couple of teams. We might as well make the most of it."

The other man nodded, hesitated, then snapped to attention before turning and jogging off.

The others weren't far from the gate. Scowling, he realised Rush was leaning on TJ, and hurried to catch up. A hand on Brody's shoulder, and he gently guided the other man out the way, passing him the alien sidearm he carried, and taking his place at the Doctor's side. Pulling one arm over his own shoulders he gripped the forearm tightly- he slipped his free hand around a too thin waist, got a good grip on the belt and lifted, taking as much weight onto himself as possible. It wasn't hard, the man didn't weigh a lot, and if Rush noticed he gave no indication; indeed, his eyes were tightly shut, and it seemed a monumental effort just to put one foot in front of the other.

"Eli-"

"On it." He was already dialling.

He ignored the interruption, approving of the fact Eli had pre-empted him, rather than being irritated at being cut off. _Train your people well, and let them do their job._Sage advice, given by his Commanding Officer when he had been a Lieutenant himself, and it had served him well all these years. It had been so very hard at first, letting go, letting his people 'fly the nest' despite knowing how well they could do their job, but he had gotten better at it over time. That pang of worry was still there, though, all these years later, for those who had served with him for whatever length of time, and particularly for any new members of his command who was just beginning, branching out on their own for the first time, flourishing. There was always that fear- had he trained them well enough? Taught them everything he could? Given them a good enough grounding to survive the dangerous life of a soldier? It was to his credit that he had lost so few over the years, but in truth he remembered those who'd fallen even more fiercely than those who'd simply moved on, and he made sure that every loss was learned from, to better prepare those who came after. He'd be damned if the same mistake was made twice. Eli may not be one of his, but screw it all if he wouldn't do everything in his power to give the likeable young man the best chance he could. He'd give him his feet, as he'd done for so many over the years, and watch him soar. He'd worry, of course, but he'd be proud too. So what if Eli didn't want his help. He was getting it anyway.

"Good job."

The wormhole engaged. He caught the smile of pride on the younger mans' face before it was quickly banished and they were moving forward. _Maybe there is hope. _He shifted his grip to pull Rush up again. It was certainly perverse, but having chosen to help there was no way in hell he'd let him fall down. Passing from the warm brightness of the planet to the cooler darkness of the Gate-room made the Doctor shiver, and Young tightened his grip just as he seemed to come alive again, straightening enough to take some of his own weight. Blinking in the half-light, he muttered a soft 'huh' before TJ was directing them towards the infirmary. People clustered round, and he grit his teeth, refusing to snap at these people who were justifiably curious. He felt Rush shy away, move back against him as they pressed closer, murmuring, reaching out; heard his breathing catch and realised the scientist wasn't far from panic.

Immediately he opened his mouth, but Scott's voice cut threw the whispering, brooking no argument.

"Come on people, _move_. _Now!_ Clear a path, let them through."

Uniforms appeared, funnelling the others away; suddenly Brody and Eli were in front, TJ to their right, giving them room to breathe. The air was heavy with emotion as she promised to let them know how he was, and they didn't stop moving again until they reached the relative safety of the infirmary.

Rush was gasping, shaking, but fighting desperately to stay on his own feet as he was guided towards a bed; with care they helped lift him onto it, leaning him against the raised back. Eyes closed instantly, and he slumped, done in but still conscious, refusing to let go. TJ carefully loosened the belt and slid the sidearm and knife free- no reaction. She turned to them, passing the weapons to the Colonel.

"Thank you. I'll keep you informed." She waited. When they didn't seem to get it, she prodded gently.

"Go, please. He won't want anyone here, and I'm sure you all have better things to do than wait and worry."

They stirred, mumbling half words and soft apologies, before slowly leaving. She turned to Young.

"You too, Sir." He sighed. "No, you have to go, too."

"His fingers…" he remembered.

"I'll manage. Please."

Studying her, he acknowledged her complete sincerity with a nod, before moving to leave.

"Let me know…"

"I will."

Pausing at the doorway, he glanced back at her, hand hovering over the panel. She raised her chin, outwardly confident, and he pressed the mechanism causing the door to heave shut, sealing the pair off from the outside world. She wouldn't allow anyone in until she was good and ready, he knew. Feeling suddenly useless, he hesitated. He didn't want to go back to the Gate-room; he had no information to give and everyone there would be expecting at least something. He couldn't face them with a meaningless shrug. He couldn't return to the planet without passing through the masses, and yet he didn't want to be completely alone. He had no idea where this sudden, irritating wave of self-pity had come from, but he knew the solution was action, and so he chose instead to head for somewhere he knew would be relatively quiet, undisturbed except by those who worked there. The Control Room. Maybe Eli could tell him something.


	2. Anticipation

A small change, methinks. I'm still trying to clear up any confusion between thought and emphasis, so I'm gonna go with bold italic for _**emphasis**_. If ffnet lets me, anyway! Let me know if you think it works?

Thanks for all the reviews for C1. Hot-damn, but you lot are quick off the mark! I think it'd only been up an hour when Nanami reviewed! Thank you, btw, and to Robby, Lina, and Starfire, none of whom I can reply to (y'all weren't logged in) though I would like to, so I'll say it here :)

Your reviews have all been fantastic. If I could give you all chocolate, I would. The constructive criticism has been great and extremely useful, and your own insights into the characters has given me much to think on (you may see some of your thoughts appear from here on in) and has helped shape some of this chapter.

You lot rock. :-D

Also, anyone who's read the CoH arc will remember that I started each chapter with a Memoir- I've taken a slightly different tack here- we get to see a snippet of recent events from Eli's pov via a Kino recording. I hope you like!

Usual disclaimer. Sigh.

----- ---- --- -- - o0o - -- --- ---- -----

_Hey, it's me. Eli, Kino blog time, ya know…  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__Hey, Eli here! Well folks, you'll never believe it!  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__Lo, the Indestructible Man!  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__Ok, Today, most awesomely, we found Doctor Rush-  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__Hmm, sunshine, green grass, loads of food, Rush-  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__It's been one helluva day. One of the nicest planets we've been on, beautiful. So much food, they're still down there, picking. We…found Doctor Rush there. Or I guess he found us, actually. Yeah. Umm, he doesn't look so good. I'm sure he'll be fine, though. TJ…well, TJ's not actually letting anyone in, ya know? I guess…  
__-File deleted.-_

_-Record.-  
__It's been one helluva day.  
__-File saved.-_

_._

_._

"The _**Orb**_." He stressed the word. "Sounds so much more dramatic than The _Ball_. Don'tcha think?"

The Colonel repressed the urge to rub his temples. The young man was still on a high, and it was showing, though Young recognised the frantic, brittle edge to his antics; Eli couldn't bring himself to stop, for doing so would give him time to think, and the last thing any of them wanted to dwell on was the very sick man still sequestered in the infirmary with TJ. That didn't mean he was very far from their thoughts, however, and the Colonel granted Eli a tolerance he wouldn't usually allow.

"Eli…" he prodded gently, keen to get him back on track.

"Right, sorry. It's definitely Ancient, in more ways than one. It's old- like _Destiny_ old. Found all the way out here, I can only guess -educatedly, mind you- is that even a word? Huh. That it came from one of the Seeder ships. Can you imagine? Looking at it, I think it should attach to something, see? I'm sure these are interface junctions. Just don't ask me to what, I have no idea. He'll know…"

Young gripped the other mans' shoulder when he trailed off, crestfallen. With a gentle squeeze, the Colonel moved the conversation forward.

"It's damaged?"

"Yeah," Eli shook himself. "It's pretty beat up. I don't know where to start, but then this isn't the sort of thing I usually play with. I'll do what I can."

He watched as the mathematician rotated the Orb, fingering the damage carefully. Even to untrained eyes, it looked pretty extensive. It had to be important, however- he couldn't see Rush lugging something that awkward around given the state he was in just for the fun of it.

"I can't even guess what it does." Young smiled.

"I have every confidence, Eli. You'll figure it out."

That raised a small smile. Young watched as Eli moved away, rolling the Orb across the work surface and into a cradle. The kid hadn't been in the Control Room, and it had taken a while to track him down to this place. Everett hadn't even realised it existed; turned out the scientists had set up a small work room a while ago where they could lay things out and work on them without interruption. He hadn't asked whose idea it had been, it was an easy guess, but given that it actually seemed quite efficient he wasn't going to complain. Various tools, some of which he could name, lay scattered on the surfaces, a half dozen diagnostic handhelds and PDA's were stacked in a corner. He smiled slightly at the disorganised pile of cups and plates that should probably have been returned to the mess a fair while ago, but refrained from commenting; if work got done, then so be it. He'd get someone to clear it up later.

Perching on a table edge, he concluded it was quite a nice little bolthole, and was oddly grateful for the quiet sanctuary; it afforded him the chance to gather his thoughts and rest. He'd been collared by Volker and Riley before he could leave the Control Room, and had been forced to explain somewhat ineffectively what little he knew of the situation. It wasn't satisfactory in the slightest, there were far too many questions and not enough answers, but it was something, and at least the scientist had been able to point him in this vague direction. They had just been the start. Walking the corridors had set him inexplicably on edge; more people were milling than usual, discussing in low voices what was going on, falling silent as he approached. Most had smiled slightly, which was a mixed relief, but he could tell they were worried. Some had gone as far as to try asking him questions, though they seemed ambiguous about what they wanted to ask, stalling and leaving things hanging, helpless. He had said what he could, given what reassurance was his to give, and moved on. He'd felt battered and exhausted by the time he'd found this room, frayed around the edges and jittery. Everyone _**wanted**__,_ though most weren't sure what, and they were looking to him to provide. Not for the first time since coming aboard, he didn't know how to give them what they needed, and this time there wasn't anything to fall back on. He had no preparation for this, no training- what do you do when the dead come back to life? Still, they looked to him, he had to have a plan- he just needed a breather to figure things out. For the time being, they still had another six hours here; if people needed something to do he could easily organise another Gathering. That'd distract another dozen or so.

He didn't jump when the door opened unexpectedly, though his insides flipped at the disturbance; Brody shuffled through the door, Volker and Riley at either side, their heads bent close together and intent upon the alien weapon Brody still carried. Young brushed his fingers over the second sitting beside him on the tabletop, an outline of a plan beginning to form. He could keep the scientists busy at least. Eli called out a quiet greeting, and Young had to fight down the urge to chuckle at their expressions when they looked up and realised he was there- deer caught in the headlights sprang to mind.

They looked at one another, then back at him, before Brody blurted,

"Have you heard anything?"

His good humour evaporated, though he didn't let it show. _Not since Volker last asked, no._

"Not yet. Give Lieutenant Johansen time." No one present was willing to remind him that it had already been over four hours. From the corner of his eye, he watched Brody frown slightly in his direction, obviously wondering what he was doing there. Before they had chance to draw the conclusion –correctly- that he was actually hiding, he nodded at the weapon the scientist held, and drew the second up to rest on his thigh.

"I have a job for you. I'll leave you to decide between yourselves who works on what, but I want you to take a look at these. Eli has started on the Ancient device-" he gamely ignored the interruption of 'the Orb' "-but he's going to need some help. Let me know how it goes."

"Well actually, the gun's quite interesting. It looks like it's powered by plasma technology. There aren't any usage restrictions- no biometric locks or anything. I'd say it's considerably more powerful than what you carry, Colonel. Single shot, but rapid recharge. Quite a nice little piece of kit. No idea how it works, though, but we'll figure it out." He raised an eyebrow at Volker, noting Riley's enthusiastic nodding.

"Already? I'm impressed. Good work, gentlemen; I'll catch up with you soon."

With that he stood, passed the second sidearm off to Volker, and made for the exit. Pausing as the door opened, he watched with amusement as Brody thrust the sidearm he carried at Riley and walked quickly to where Eli stood, exclaiming excitedly over the Orb and pulling it back off the cradle. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay, not without arousing suspicion; they were all looking to him to lead them, and he had to appear to be in control, even if it did feel like he was running blind.

His feet carried him back to the Gate-room. Blessedly, the crowds had mostly dispersed; those that remained were locked in hushed conversations, though they quickly fell silent and looked at him as he entered. Perfectly at ease, outwardly, he nodded a greeting, and walked to the control station.

"Report."

"Sir. Lieutenant Scott last dialled in an hour ago- he sent through several sacks of different fruit n' veg. He said he'd be back again in just over an hour, Sir, so not long to wait. There's plenty to gather, he said, and they were moving further a-field where the trees clear to see if he could find any animal life. Nice bit of roast beef would go down just perfectly right about now, Sir!"

Young chuckled. "That it would, Airman. Lieutenant James," he spoke into his radio, "report to the Gate-room." Within minutes, she was there, coming to a stop with a brisk 'Sir' beside him.

"Lieutenant, gather another party. We may as well make full use of such a good harvest. Liaise with Scott when you get planetside; he'll point you in the best direction. Anyone who wants to go," he addressed the room, "step forward. You never know when the next chance to get some sun will be."

"Sir!" and she stepped ahead to do as ordered, speaking into her own radio to organise suitable arms for the party. To his approval, several of those still in the room came forward.

"Good job. We still have a few hours left here. Follow James, she'll be the group lead."

Done. With another nod, he left. Young breathed a silent sigh of relief, no questions asked, thankfully. Still…four hours. With a frown, he changed direction, just as his radio crackled to life.

"Colonel Young, please report to the infirmary." _Good timing. _He was glad he was alone, though he wondered how many had overheard the summons.

"On my way."

The door was shut still when he arrived, but not locked; entering, the room felt oddly eerie, the silence not particularly soothing. Maybe some of that was to do with the young woman who sat stiff-backed in a chair, obviously pensive. Or worried. He felt his stomach churn. Sparing a glance at the figure curled on his side on the bed where they'd left him, he made his way to her.

"Has he said anything?"

His voice was swallowed by the quiet. He watched her rub her eyes._ God, she looks tired._

"Very little, Sir. Not a lot that made sense." The Colonel nodded. That didn't surprise him, given that the man had barely been conscious and even less lucid when he'd left. Or rather, been chased out.

"I did try, Sir, but he hasn't really responded. He's too exhausted. I'll try again when he wakes, but I honestly doubt I'll get anything out of him. If we were on Earth, Sir, I'd recommend that he see a counsellor, or at least have a psych evaluation-"

He stiffened involuntarily, considerably surprised. She easily read the querying glance he threw her.

"He _**has **_been tortured. That'll be difficult for anyone, even him. Truthfully, though, I doubt he'd pass one of those at the best of times."

He snorted in agreement. _Definitely not_. It amazed him sometimes that Rush had actually been accepted for the position of head scientist. Genius aside, he came across as rather unstable most of the time- not a good characteristic in someone who was, effectively, sitting on the biggest bomb in existence. _Yeah, see where that got us._ He repressed a shudder at the thought of what had happened to Icarus. Even so…he closed his eyes. _Tortured._ Having seen the state of him, Young had expected something like that, but having it confirmed was still a shock. The anger that had flared with memories of Icarus was replaced with sorrow and not a little guilt. He wanted to ask her how badly, but could still read her well enough to know she didn't want to talk about it. Whatever she had found had affected her deeply; her unsettled soul shone in her eyes.

Eventually, she broke the silence, "what happened to the Ancient device?"

"Eli and Brody are drooling over it," he said with a wry smile, remembering Brody's reaction and Eli's huff of dismay at the intrusion. "Not been able to do much with it, yet. Volker and Reilly are studying the weapons; they've had more luck." At least, those were the pairings he assumed would develop. Silence stretched out between them, one not as comfortable as it had been in the past, but still a relatively easy one. He followed her lead and turned to watch the sleeping scientist.

_She's done his fingers._ He could see makeshift splints protruding from beneath white bandages, holding the fingers straight and splayed, and he swallowed, pained. She shouldn't have had to do that. Much of the Doctor was hidden beneath the light blanket, but he could make out the bandage wrapped about his upper arm, already beginning to stain through. The face was a mess, gaunt, the eyes sunken, and Young could easily see his complexion was grey beneath the mottled bruising and deep lacerations. The hair had been parted to reveal another, the strands still damp from a careful cleaning. Had it not been for the slight rise and fall of the blanket as he breathed, or the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, he'd honestly believe Rush was dead.

"You couldn't have known, Sir." A shiver of helpless premonition ran through him, and he turned to look at her. "That he was alive. It wasn't your fault." He continued to stare at her, completely dumbfounded, unable to think of anything to say. He absently wondered whether the guilt showed, but her expression, compassion and sorrow, didn't change. Dread rose in him, clawing at his insides. He had to get out.

"Let me know when he wakes up," he ordered, and spinning on his heel he left. _Oh, well done, you handled that brilliantly._ _Stupid!_ What would she think? Stress, hopefully. _I left him to die._ Could he ever confess those words out loud? Once, maybe, a number of people would have agreed with his actions- some may even have congratulated him on having the balls to deal with 'The Problem' that was Rush. _Ironic, given that Rush had accused me of not being able to make the difficult decisions. Not that I was really thinking at the time. _That was before the consequences of such actions were so brutally laid bare. Now? Now they'd deny they'd ever had such thoughts. Bury them in the dark places and hope no one remembered. People were like that, he realised suddenly, they spent so much time lying to themselves. With a flash of insight, he wondered what Rush would have thought. If anyone knew the dark truths of what lay hidden within people, it was him. Was that why he had so little time for people? He knew them too well? Young shook his head. _No, man's just an arsehole._ With an unhappy grimace, he wondered what TJ would think of him if she knew this truth. Would she shrink away in revulsion? Would her eyes show betrayal? She had such faith in him, maybe not as a man but certainly as a commander, they all did; this truth for them was inconceivable, as it once had been for him.

_Fraud. And you want to lead these people._

He shook his head.

_I'm capable of it_, he realised, pace slowing. _And Rush knows it now. He started this, created this; gave life to this monster. I'll be able to deal with him again, even if I may not want to do it. I've done it once, we both know I can do it again._ The thought was sobering. And frighteningly, he knew he could. He wouldn't want to, but if it were necessary…he'd do everything to make sure it didn't come to that, though. He scrubbed his face, sighing. He'd have to convince Rush that he was more than willing to do it again. Maybe the scientist would take the hint and stop pushing. It was too much to expect him to fall in line, but it was a lie Young was willing to make if it could force a tenuous peace. It would be hard. The Doctor was too sharp, too perceptive; if he even caught wind of the slightest hesitation, the tiniest hint that things weren't quite right, he'd be back on the attack, and that would force the Colonel's hand.

_Too far down the line. Right now, deal with this mess_. _There's no point borrowing trouble, after all_.

"Colonel."

_Speaking of trouble…_

"Miss Wray." He turned to her. "How can I help you?"

Her expression was cool as she approached; professional and distant. Her lips curved in an arch little smile that gave nothing away as she came to a stop before him.

"I assume you've just come from the infirmary? Good," she responded to his nod. "How is he?"

_Do you really care?_ "Sleeping. I get the impression he will be for a while."

She frowned. "But how is he, Colonel? That's a pat answer, and you know it." He frowned slightly before he could stop himself, and she pounced. "Did you even ask?"

Her tone bordered on incredulous. _My, but she's a good actress. Damn it, but no- I didn't._

"Hurt, Miss Wray." His tone turned snide, "surely you saw that in the Gate-room. Exhausted. Stubborn," he continued, thinking of what TJ had told him. "Quiet, but then that's understandable. And sleeping." _Tortured._ She didn't need to know that, not yet. It'd raise too many questions, and frankly she didn't need to know. He could spare Rush that, at least. _Why would I? _And TJ. She hadn't wanted to talk about it with him, he clearly remembered her distress, and the last thing she needed after the several hours spent picking through that wreckage was to be interrogated by the bloody IOA.

The frown deepened. Before she could speak again, he cut her off.

"He's barely said _**anything**__, _Miss Wray. He's way too far out of it. Lieutenant Johansen did try talking with him, but she had no luck. She'll try again when he wakes. That's all there is." _No way am I justifying anything to you._

Her eyes narrowed; the shift was dizzyingly fast and he barely had time to brace himself for the unknown question he knew was coming but couldn't hope to prepare for.

"Ah, yes. Luck. Funny how that works." _Damn it!_ Instantly he understood the implication. She'd heard the conversation, probably had it word-for-word. _The Kino?_ Most likely. _Shit. _Still, there was nothing new she could contrive from that. _Be calm._

"Isn't it?" He forced a smile he didn't feel, and had the pleasure of seeing a flash of confusion. _Didn't see that coming. Right, let's do this shall we?_

"Is there something you want to say to me, Miss Wray?" She shifted closer.

"You're lying." _Well, she's certainly got balls._

"Somehow, I was expecting more than that." The attractive face twisted into a scowl, and something nagged at him- he hadn't realised he could goad people, too. Where did that come from?

"We both know it. You left him there intentionally. Even _**if**_ what you claimed is true, you didn't even check on him- you should have. It was your _**duty**_ Colonel." She spat the title. "Your _**responsibility**_." She regarded him, eyes fierce and intense. "But the truth is, it never happened. There was no landslide, no rock fall. This? Him? The state he's in? It's _**your fault**_. You left him to die, Everett, and we both know it." _Prove it…_

Anger built, irrational, more ferocious than it should have been because he recognised her words as truth, and it took everything he had to stamp down on it, force himself to reflect a calm he didn't feel. He couldn't let her get to him, even if he knew she was right.

"Are we done?"

The words were out before he had chance to think, and he shuddered and froze, numbed. He felt his skin crawl and his scalp prickle as he realised exactly what he had just said. He felt sick. A ghost whispered from the past; _we will _never_ be done…_ it took considerable effort to pull himself back, banish again the image of a man laying bloodied and beaten, unconscious on the dusty earth. _Not again. _She hadn't noticed the lapse, fortunately.

"For the moment, Colonel. Don't think we're finished, though." _God, not you too…_

She spun on her heel and strode off; he closed his eyes, took a deep breath to try and steady himself, but it didn't help particularly, and he was left deeply unsettled. Young forced himself to start walking, no direction in mind, and eventually found himself in the Gate-room.

_I need some air._

"How goes it?" An older woman with greying hair looked up from the bags she was sorting and smiled in welcome.

"Colonel Young! We heard over the radio…" She left it hanging, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the attention of everyone present was fixed unwaveringly upon him.

"He's doing fine." Okay, an exaggeration, but TJ hadn't specifically said he wasn't. He tempered his words upon seeing the bright hope on their faces, though he rather expected she would have told him if she didn't think he'd make it. "Wrung out and exhausted, and definitely worse for wear, but still with us. He's sleeping at the moment, and probably will be for a while. I'm sorry, we don't have anything specific right now; we'll know more when he wakes up." He smiled gently, and was relieved to see the gesture returned.

_How short people's memories are. Have they forgotten how much they disliked him?_ Selective memory; giving things a rosy tint was definitely a human flaw. Maybe…maybe it was because they needed the hope. Maybe it didn't matter that it was Rush, it only mattered that it had _**happened**__. _Still, he rather expected they'd remember soon enough- most likely the first time the bastard opened his mouth. He nodded at the bags.

"Oh- very well, Colonel. There's an abundance of foodstuffs down there. We know these are safe for starters." She dug into a bag and pulled out a blotchy yellow knobbly, hairy fruit. "Umm, Sergeant Greer has already tried one…"

Her expression was somewhat sheepish and, though Young sighed, he fixed her with a resigned smile.

"Somehow I'm not surprised. Good work." With another nod, he moved away. Listening, there was a definite buzz in the air. Surveying the Gate-room, he noted with belated approval that it was bustling with organised activity. Walking to the console he inclined his head in greeting.

"Dial it up, Steransen" The Airman's compliance was immediate. _Oh, how much do I prefer the military…_ rather than reach for his radio, he moved towards the Gate.

"Would you like a detail, Sir?"

"Nope. I'm not going to be long enough." His countenance was approving, though, and the other man relaxed.

"Sir."

Passing through the Gate, he took a moment to simply stand in the sunshine, eyes closed, allowing it to warm him through.

"Colonel." Greer.

Turning in the direction of the voice, watching the Sergeant make his way towards him, and wondered what had put that grin on his face. The expression turned deceptively innocent.

"Fancy getting ya hands dirty, Sir?" _Was that a challenge? Only Greer._

"Depends on what you have in mind." With a 'this way, Sir', Greer was leading him off to the side. The scene that greeted him filled him with surprise, and no little amount of delight. _Well, it's not quite beef, but it'll do…_

Meat. Those gathered were busily butchering three animals; smaller than a sheep, two legged with large feet, and a long slender head sporting a single crest, the brow and cheeks decked in the remains of fine hair. They'd have to be cooked practically into boot leather to eradicate the risk of foreign disease, but even so. It was the first meat they'd had in…months. _God. That long?_

"There'd'a been more, Sir, but they're fast. Didn't wanna waste the ammo." His eyes shone "Livick reckons he can whip up a bow. That stack of wood over there, Sir?" Young turned in the direction indicated; a pile of long slender wood lay dwarfed by the food sacks. "We're bringin' it back. He reckons he's got hopes for some of it. That'd be kinda cool, Colonel. Handy too." He nodded in agreement, making a mental note to congratulate Simon Livick, one of the civilians. Such ingenuity was what they desperately needed. _All we need now are people who can shoot. Doubtless Greer'll be up for learning._

"Excellent news- that'll be a big help." Really, it should have been thought of sooner, though in fairness they _**had **_been rather busy. He watched Scott approach, and Greer effectively dismissed himself, giving them some privacy. He'd seen the burning curiosity in the Sergeants face, and greatly appreciated that he hadn't asked.

"Sir? Not that it's not good to see you…"

"I needed a break," he confessed quietly. The younger man straightened, proud of bearing witness to such confidence.

"Not going well, Sir?" His voice was pitched low.

"No, no- everything seems fine. TJ's finished for now, but she's got her work ahead cut out. No, I just…" He shrugged. "Bit of sunshine, peace and quiet. For the moment, anyway" Already people were repeatedly glancing over at him; he'd have to address them soon. Scott nodded in understanding.

"Now, Greer mentioned something about getting my hands dirty?"

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The shit has not yet hit the fan, as you can tell. Come on, given what I put him through in CoH, you surely weren't expecting a quick recovery? You were? Sorry… *snickers* if it helps, there'll be some smidgen of hurt/comfort coming up with a slightly, irrationally jealous Colonel (no Rush-whump, yet- I rather think that'd be unfair to the poor man), and something happens that's kinda an indication of Rush's mental state.


	3. Awareness

Just to let you know, a kinda foreword on Young. One of my biggest problems with Young bashing (besides not wanting to go overboard) is that everyone, from the actor to the caster to the _director,_ tell us that _this is a good man_. A damn fine officer, decent, honourable, proud, strong, unwavering, with an outstanding career- no sense of humour, but hey, you can't have everything. He ticks all the boxes. He's the sort of officer you want leading men. He's meant to be firm, but fair. He's not there to play nice, he's there to do a job and keep people alive. Yes, he went off the deep end, and ooooh yes, is he somewhat unstable at the moment. Is it me, or does the more unstable he becomes, the more stable Rush gets? Hmm. Interesting. I don't like what he did; no sane person does, and there will be repercussions, but Rush doesn't help himself- that doesn't mean that I think he deserved what happened, mind. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love Rush- as far as I'm concerned he's the best thing the show has to offer (and that's saying a lot- as far as I'm concerned the show is awesome), and what Young did is unforgivable, but even Carlyle says that the character is 'absolutely not to be trusted'. Which is uber-cool. :-p two such strong characters, seemingly at different ends of the spectrum, they'll either work it out, or something will give. Won't be pretty…

Well, I got in jealous Young, as promised, but the point with Rush is going to be next chapter now, I'm afraid. This turned into quite a long one, and the current end felt like a good place to stop. Oh, I'm going to start tying in the cannon episodes, which should prove interesting…

Nanami has made a very interesting point that I'd like to draw attention to. Young's 'has he learnt anything' is intentional. People generally are very selfish, especially when they're in the wrong, so by the end of C1 he's more concerned with himself than Rush. Lol, I'm glad you found it annoying, it was meant to be! It's very self-centred and biased, he knows the implications for himself aren't good. It's one of the reasons why Wray came across so strongly here- I wanted a challenging POV, one more in line with what we are all thinking, one that wouldn't let him get away with deluding himself. Don't worry, my dear- they have a lot to 'discuss'. My Rush isn't going to forgive anywhere near as easily as the Canon one did. And yes, Young begins to glean some insight into what Rush went through, although his sleeplessness is still more for his own sake than the Doctors.

Big thanks to Tiger-scribbles. I haven't said that yet. She rocks! Thank her for the Kino vids- I couldn't get it to work right, and she fixed it for me :)

Usual disclaimers. ::(

------ ----- ---- --- -- - o0o - -- --- ---- ----- ------

_-Record.-  
Man did that guy get out on the wrong side of bed? FYI, not _my_ problem, ya know? Not my fault, either. Whatever it is. I guess…well, I guess he's worried. Okay, I'm being unfair. Everyone's worried- the Colonel, he just has it bigger. I guess I see why. And he hasn't really snapped _that_ much. And…I guess that's why he's keeping to himself today. He's hogging the infirmary, though. TJ won't let more than one person in at a time. I know he's worried, ya know? It's just kinda…weird. Creepy-weird. Him, Rush, caring. I guess…it's different now? I guess he feels responsible for him. What's that saying? If you save another mans life, you're responsible for it? Yeah. Umm, well, except he didn't save his life. He left him behind. To die. Oh. I guess maybe that's why it's so much worse. Doesn't stop it being creepy. Or weird…  
-File saved.-_

.

.

The Gathering had been a huge success. Becker had taken charge of a work detail to start preserving what could be preserved, either through cooking or drying; the perishables that couldn't were being organised in one of the smaller storage rooms. Brody had figured out how to lower the temperature and, although it wasn't nearly as cold as a fridge, the various greens would keep longer stored in there. Less than a third of the harvest had turned out to be inedible, and TJ was currently working through the waste to see if there was anything she could extract. So far she'd found a couple of gems, particularly a rather amusing fruit bearing topical anesthetical properties, as demonstrated by a young Airman who was left drooling and unable to speak when his entire mouth had gone numb. The meat had indeed been cooked to toughness, the general consensus being better safe than sorry; regardless, it had gone down an absolute treat. Becker was definitely getting better at improvising.

The feel of the ship had been positively jubilant, a sharp contrast with the last two months. With everyone well fed they were happy, and even some of the tension between the military personnel and the civilians had eased. The atmosphere onboard was more relaxed; with the constant shadow of starvation alleviated, for however long it would last, people were cheerful, able to take time for themselves and worry less.

All in all, it was one of the most productive days they'd had, and yet Everett found his enthusiasm not what it should have been. Oh, he had smiled, praised the teams and joked with the crew, but his heart hadn't really been in it. He knew what the problem was, and unfortunately it was out of his control. Rush. It had been three days since they had left the planet, and he had yet to see the man awake. That TJ was openly pleased with his progress had allayed a great deal of the fear floating around that his continued unconsciousness had created, and the general assumption had become that he'd be back to work in no time. _They have no idea._

The constant suspense had slowly destroyed his appetite; he was barely sleeping, and the headache he'd had upon waking from a fitful slumber that morning had grown worse as the day progressed. He felt exhausted, nervous, stressed like he hadn't been in years. He honestly felt like he should have been looking over his shoulder, like there was another shoe waiting to drop. Which, of course, there was- what was killing him was not knowing where it would fall. Having no desire to take out his increasingly fretful, bad attitude on the crew, for the most part he'd either secluded himself in his quarters- 'paperwork', or in the infirmary waiting for the Doctor to wake.

Which was where he now found himself. If he wanted to be honest, he wished to spare himself from the attention of the crew as much as he wanted to spare them from his temper. He'd heard whispering from the people, both civilian and military, about how good it was of him to be so worried about the scientist. He'd spent so much time by his bedside that people had assumed he was watching over the other man, concerned, rather than waiting. They thought, now, his guilt unfounded; his desire to make perceived amends noble. _How different their thoughts would be if they knew the truth. _Not something he wanted to dwell on.

Watching Rush jerk again, twisting restless in his sleep, he sighed and massaged his temples.

_At least I'm not the only one unable to rest peacefully. _He drew breath in a sharp hiss and snapped upright, wondering where that little bit of vitriol had come from.

"You should get some sleep." He jumped. Damn, but he was jittery. _I'm gonna have my own nervous breakdown at this rate._

"I'm fine." He winced at how curt his voice sounded. Turning slightly he murmured a 'sorry'; felt six inches tall when she looked at him with mild disappointment, sighing.

"No, you're not. Really, Sir, admirable as it is for you to spend so much time here, it's not doing you any good. I'll tell you when he's liable to be conscious for any useful length of time."

Carrying another chair across, she sat down beside him, studying the sleeping figure.

"I don't think he's far off waking properly, mind. He's certainly restless enough. This fever has taken its toll but it's finally broken, so it's only a matter of time. Don't expect much out of him for a while, though, Sir- he's liable to fall asleep halfway through conversations. He's been awake a few times-" _and she hadn't told him?_ Opening his mouth, well aware that his anger was showing, she calmly forestalled him with a raised hand "-not long enough to warrant calling you down, Sir. There would have been no point. By the time you arrived he would have been asleep again."

She scrubbed her face, clearly hesitant, before continuing carefully, "You should know…he's eaten…and he's been sick. I think the liquid protein is too rich for him right now, though I doubt he can manage solid food, either; I don't think he's eaten properly in a while, and he'll have to build back up to it. He's showing signs of severe malnutrition and dehydration, Sir, a very bad combination. His leg…" she swallowed. "I'm doing what I can. It's going to be a fair while before he's fit for much, I'm afraid." He pinched the bridge of his nose, pained, and she shrugged apologetically. "I expect he'll push, though. Don't be surprised if he ends up back here. Repeatedly. Sometimes I wonder exactly what it takes to penetrate that skull." He chuckled weakly.

"If you ever find out, let me know?" She smiled, and they lapsed into silence. Thinking about what she had said, he frowned slightly.

"No IV?" She sighed, rubbed tired eyes.

"No. I tried, but every time he wakes up, even a little, the first thing he does is pull it out. It's too stressful, and he's only hurting himself. Don't worry, I'm keeping a close eye on him, we'll see how it goes." The sleeping figure gave a soft gasp, fingers spasming and body going tense briefly before he settled again. Young closed his eyes, heard her shift beside him.

"Go get some rest while you can, Colonel. This…isn't going to be easy. They hurt him. Badly. He seemed sound enough on the planet- certainly, he was aware of his surroundings, and he recognised us- but…I don't know. It'll take time for what's happened to hit fully. Mentally, we won't have any idea of how damaged he is for a while. We won't even know what they did unless he decides to tell us, but…I have some idea." She bowed forward, dropping her head into her hands and continued in a whisper, "I don't think I can do this."

He swallowed with difficulty, hurting for her. How could she be expected to pick up the pieces? Reaching across, Everett rested a hand on her shoulder, realised she was shivering slightly. He rubbed slow, gentle circles before squeezing lightly and holding on, pulling her close to rest against him. He felt her relax slightly. It was hard, being this close to her, but if it helped he'd do just about anything.

"I have faith in you, TJ. If it comes to it, we'll get someone from Earth, though I doubt they'll have any greater luck than you will." He sighed. "I'm sorry this has fallen on you. If you need to talk, or need a break, or even just someone to baby-sit for a few hours, let me know. I don't expect you to do it all yourself."

She gave a breathless laugh and straightened, brushing stray tendrils of hair back from her face to reveal slightly reddened eyes, and he wondered again at what she'd found. _I don't think you really want to know_. He shook off that nasty little voice, listening as she spoke again. "Baby-sit?"

Young pulled a face. "Do _not_ tell him I said that, Lieutenant. Seriously, though, if there's anything I can do…" She smiled at him.

"Thank you. Now, bed." He blinked._ Don't go there._ "I don't want to see you back here for a good six hours."

He deliberated, fighting an internal battle as she rose to resume her work, and finally gave in.

"I can't sleep." She paused, crossed to one of the far workbenches and routed around in one of the boxes. Coming back, she passed him two pills.

"With water. They'll help. Don't tell anyone," she winked at him and grinned. "We don't have many. Emergencies only." He fixed her with a relieved smile, beyond grateful that she hadn't asked any questions. Chances are she already understood, or at least thought she did. Tucking the precious medication in a pocket, he stood.

"Thanks. I'll be back later."

Her voice followed him to the door, gently teasing.

"I'm sure you will." He felt his insides flutter. _Damn, did she have any idea..?_ Probably not. He _hoped _not. The Colonel waved over his shoulder and set off for his quarters.

--- -- - o0o - -- ---

It was an effort to open his eyes. Really, he hadn't felt this comfortable in a long while. 'Snuggly', Emily had called it. His limbs felt warm and heavy; his movements were suitably slow and laconic. He could feel warmth in his face, knew his cheeks would be flushed and his hair badly tousled, all signs of a very deep, restful sleep. Slowly, his mind came back to the present, and he reached out from under the sheets groping for his watch. It was there, somewhere…_got it._ Lighting the display, he blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again.

_Six hours my arse._ Still, he felt so much better than he had in a while. Pushing himself upright was a chore, but he managed it; the idea of putting his feet on the cold floor was nearly daunting enough to drive him straight back to bed, though. _Man up, Everett. _With a sigh, he padded across the room to begin his ablutions. It turned out to be one of those slow, easy 'mornings' that had been absent for such a long time; that he hadn't even realised he'd missed.

Stifling a yawn, he squared himself away before the mirror and left, heading for the mess. Lunch turned out to be fruit, nuts and strips of jerky, and he spent the better part of an hour catching up and joking easily with those under his command. Refreshed, he bid his leave, and meandered down to the infirmary. There was a deep quiet that remained remarkably undisturbed by the rhythmic beeping of the machine, a peace that suited his mood perfectly and eased him further. TJ greeted him with a smile, and nodded in the direction of the bed where Rush still lay curled on his side. Intrigued by the silent command, and hopeful, he crossed on silent feet and sank onto 'his' chair. The slight sound of the legs squeaking on the floor was enough; dark eyes eased open, and for a long time they simply regarded each other.

"Not going… t' welcome me back?" The voice was incredibly quiet, but there was an edge to the tone, tenseness about his eyes that set alarms ringing. Matching the soft pitch, he responded in a calm, measured tenor.

"Welcome back."

As he watched the eyelids slid shut and the tension eased. He waited, but when there was no reply he leant back, remembering what TJ had said. He was just getting comfortable when those eyes opened again, not without effort, and Young could read the weariness in them, underlined by the stubbornness that irritated him no end.

"Ye almost…sound like y'…meant it." Instantly worried by the broken speech and laboured breathing, he almost missed the faint humour.

"Yeah, well. I've had time to practice. It's been nearly four days, you know." Easy conversation; neither wanted to go beyond the superficial. _I can do this. Now, if only it could _stay_ like this_. Surprise showed at the length of time, but it quickly faded; Rush was simply too tired to hang on to anything for long. The dark gaze flickered somewhere over his shoulder, then back again.

"How…did it happen?" _Funny. What you mean is 'what lie did you tell everyone'? _Oh yes- though there was challenge there it was definitely reserved, and he thought he could detect an equal amount of genuine curiosity. _No, he doesn't want to get into it either. Yet. Wait…_ he fought down the urge to frown. _Doesn't he remember the conversation on the planet? Eli practically told him already._

"Landslide."_ Remember?_

"Ah. Good t' know." _Obviously he doesn't remember, but then, he was out of it. _With that he drifted off, to all appearances asleep. Young remained still until he was sure that was actually the case, then tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he stayed like that, simply staring into space without really thinking of anything before she moved into his field of vision.

"Six hours, Lieutenant?" He queried, amused, keeping his voice low.

She snorted delicately. "No, I said I didn't want to see you again for six hours. I never said how long the pills would keep you out." He straightened, watching as she moved to the bed, checking her patient. The scientist didn't react to her touch, and Young remembered with a pang how incredibly gentle she could be. At last she turned, smiling slightly.

"The sleepers would have worked for about nine hours; the rest was entirely you. Your body just needed the incentive to sleep. Did he say much?"

"Incentive?" he fixed her with a pained look. "Lieutenant, I just lost fourteen hours."

"You could do with more. Sir. Tell me, when _was _the last time you got a proper nights' sleep?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you." It wasn't a question. She smirked. "Not much, really. He wasn't awake long. He seems…okay." Maybe. He could read the same hesitance in her.

"Yeah, he seems it. It won't last." Her eyes were shadowed as she looked past him. He wished he could nay-say her, but there was such bleak certainty in her voice that he felt himself shiver.

"TJ…"

"No. If it becomes an issue, we'll talk. But right now…he's my patient, Everett, I need to ask you to respect that. Please? Don't ask me questions- or him. He won't talk to me at all if he thinks I'm running straight to you; it's going to be hard enough convincing him I'm not. I promise, though, that if it's something you need to know, I'll tell you." He bristled at the tone of voice, but caught the pleading in her eyes. He sighed; how could he say no to her? Besides, she was right; and she _had_ promised to let him know if necessary. He could trust her on that.

"I'll keep you to that, Lieutenant."

Her voice when she answered was a whisper, and he could sense her relief.

"Thank you, Sir."

---- --- -- - o0o - -- --- ----

More at ease than he had been for a while he left, choosing to let his feet carry them where they would. A stop at the mess hadn't left him completely satisfied- he wasn't sure what he was looking for, but it wasn't there. Fresh cup of 'tea' in hand, he took back to the walkways and gradually made his way to the Control Room.

"All I'm saying is-"

"Guys, given the way TJ's hovering, I don't think she's gonna let him do _anything_ for a while." He frowned, curiosity piqued. Leaning against the bulkhead, just out of sight, he shamelessly eavesdropped.

"What about a laptop? We can hook up a link-"

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" Eli. Definitely Eli. "He's not well enough. Even if he didn't have three broken fingers and a busted arm, TJ would confiscate it. Not to mention the Colonel…" He straightened.

"Yeah, anyone else finding that weird?" Brody? "I mean, they can barely be civil to each other most of the time, and now he's practically always there." Yep, Brody.

"He's worried-"

"We're all worried. No one else is camped out in the infirmary."

"Well, there's still those rumours…" _and what rumours are those, Mr. Volker?_

"You buy that? Seriously? Geez, Come on."

"You don't sound too certain, Eli. Come on yourself!" _Right, time to end this._ He stepped into the room.

"Come on with what?" They leapt, visibly startled, but he gave no indication he'd been listening in.

"Don't do that! What is it, some secret military kick ass training or something? Umm, Colonel…" Despite the preceding conversation, Young actually laughed. Trust Eli.

"Something like that. I'm surprised to find you all here. Not having much luck?" They looked at him blankly before realising what he was referring to. Eli shook his head.

"Me? Not really. I was actually setting up a search in the database to see if _Destiny _has information about anything similar- nothing yet. Umm, guys?"

Volker shuffled. "We're not doing too badly. Umm, I wanted to ask you- we, Riley and I, want to take one of the weapons apart. We've figured out the basics of how it works, but we'd like to take a look inside."

He raised an eyebrow. "You reckon you can put it back together again?"

"Well," he glanced over at Eli, "If we can't, I'm sure Doctor Rush can. Not that I foresee a problem," he added hastily. Young refused to sigh.

"Rush won't be doing anything for a while. I've just spoken with Lieutenant Johansen-" The way they all brightened instantly was irritating, "-and she says it's going to be a slow recovery. While she fully expects him to push himself, she will be most displeased with anyone who encourages him." _Well, she would have said that if she knew they were already making plans. _"You are not to encourage him. In fact, I want you to dissuade him. Johansen _will_ find out, I assure you, and I won't be stepping in to save you from her wrath. Now, 'come on with what?'" _One of you must have thought of something by now- let's hear it. _

"Er," _Oh, real convincing, Eli. _"Just, really, whether it was possible to get Doctor Rush's input on some phase trajectory analysis we've been running."

_Not bad._ Young stared. How the hell was he supposed to know if that was true? _I guess that's the point,_ he thought, amused. Hell, he wasn't even sure he knew what it meant.

"O-kay…" He quickly made a decision, letting them off the hook. It wasn't really a subject he could argue the truth about with them, after all- he was sure they could tie him in knots easily. "No. You are not to disturb him with this. Johansen will kill you if you try." _Seriously, she would. _"And then she'd ask me what _I _was thinking, letting you do it. Not happening, gentlemen. Figure it out yourselves."

They looked at one another, and he chose to ignore the relief plastered across their faces. _I wonder if any of them will ever pluck up the courage to ask. _

"Was there something we can do for you, Colonel? Besides an update, I mean." He nodded at Volker.

"Actually, I was wondering what _Destiny's_ plan was? When are we next stopping?"

"Oh, right." Eli moved to the central console. With practiced ease, he pulled up the flight plan. "Let's see. We have another forty two hours before planet fall. Oh. Not as nice as the last one. No breathable atmosphere for a start. Umm, I'm not actually sure why we're stopping there. I'm guessing this is one of _Destiny's_, not…his." The young man stilled for a moment, before turning back to Young.

"_Destiny's?"_

"Yeah. Well, the ship gives us places depending on the criteria we enter. I'm guessing there's something there, we just won't know what until we arrive. We wouldn't stop for no reason." He frowned slightly. "At least, I don't think we would. You never know. You know, we're not even entirely sure how the whole thing works, so I guess it's possible-"

He broke in, interrupting the younger mans rambling. "I get the idea, Eli, thank you. A shame, I know a lot of people enjoyed the break on the last planet, even if it was only for a few hours."

He looked into the distance. "Two days. We might as well get some more repairs done, then. I'll have Lieutenant Scott put together a group. He'll liaise with you soon." He didn't miss the fleeting look of resignation on Brody's face, wondered if Volker felt the same. _Tough._

With a brisk farewell, he was moving again. _Well, if I'm doing the rounds…_ The Gate-room was unsurprisingly empty, the air so very still. Dim lighting cast eerie shadows across the surfaces; the corners of the room were lost in the darkness. His soft footfalls echoed in the silence as he crossed to the ring. Even in the half light -maybe more so because of it- the Stargate still dominated the room, looming ominously from the darkness. Reaching out, he gently touched the cool metal, running fingers along the textured surface, tracing the shapes embossed on the frame.

_I wonder why they all look so different._ The Earth Gate was definitely the most intimidating; this one the most stunning. _Maybe it's the difference between a T-Bird and a Challenger._

Well did he remember the deep pride and honour he had felt at being handpicked by O'Neill himself for a top-secret military program. He'd deserved it, worked damn hard throughout his career to achieve that sort of recognition. He still recalled the astonishment he'd experienced the first time he'd even _seen_ a Stargate, and then to watch it in action… 'awe' couldn't begin to describe it. There was something truly magnificent about these marvels of technology; more than that, they had opened up to him whole new worlds, a new life he could never have imagined.

Eli's wide-eyed boyish innocence never failed to make him smile, even if he rarely showed it. The young mans delight was much like his had been; indeed, much like _everyone's _was the first few times. That first year was perhaps one of the best of his life. He sighed. The Stargates no longer held the same fascination they once had; although he was no less impressed by them, and they would always hold special meaning for the wonders they had allowed him to witness, he had become somewhat jaded. He closed his eyes.

Someone else's mistake and he'd been meant to clean up after them. Only…he hadn't, and it was a failure that would forever haunt him. It didn't matter what the enquiry had decided, that he'd been completely exonerated, even commended for his actions- as far as he was concerned he'd made the wrong call, the worst choice of bad choices, and three people had died. It didn't matter what they had said, what General O'Neill said; the blame lay with him. He should have been able to save them.

…_You resigned your position as S.G. leader because you didn't wanna make the hard decisions, the life and death decisions. Well, that makes you a liability…_

_No, Rush. Just tired._ He sighed, suddenly weary, and turned to lean back against the structure, empty cup dangling from his fingers. His thoughts drifted, circling back to that difficult conversation a lifetime ago. Though General O'Neill had been understanding, Young honestly thought he'd rather disappointed the man.

.

.

"_Look, Everett, it's not easy. I get that. Balancing a home life around traipsing all over the galaxy, fighting the bad guys, living off-world? It's hard. Hell, it's not meant to be easy. If it were, everyone'd do it. That doesn't mean you walk away. Not you."_

"_I'm not…the man I used to be, General. More than that, I have to sort things out back home."_

"_Are any of us?" A sigh. "By all means, Colonel, take some time to sort out your private life, have a holiday, a second honeymoon, whatever it takes, but resignation? Really? I wouldn't have pitched you at that. The last thing you want to do is quit prematurely, and find you regret it later; you'll only come to resent her for making you chose. David can take over Icarus, he's been chomping for it anyway. You? You're going on leave. You're too good a leader for me to lose you."_

_._

_._

He stared out unseeing into the gloom, haunted by the ghosts of the past.

_A good leader? Then why can't I even deal with one man?_

---- --- -- - o0o - -- --- ----

He'd always preferred 'out of hours', when the world was quiet and still. That time before the hustle and bustle of the day began afforded a moment to think, to plan the day, to contemplate the little things in life before the big things took over. Even on a ship where there was no real day or night, where people generally kept to themselves anyway, there was still something different, undisturbed, about the quite of morning when compared to the quiet of the day. _Solitude._ He thought. _There may be some seventy-odd other souls here, but it feel like I'm the only one in all existence. _The military's fondness for early hours suited him well, fortunately, and he had long ago learnt to make the most of these hours, getting things done that he probably wouldn't have time for later. And so here he was, up and about long before the usual ship board day was due to start. Few people were abroad, and those that were appeared to be of the same mind he was. Greetings, though congenial, were softly spoken and brief; people were lost in their own thoughts and simply enjoying their own chance for solitary quiet.

His slow pace brought him to the infirmary, but before he had chance to reach for the door release, it opened, and he nearly found himself entangled with Lieutenant James. She gaped, wide-eyed, managing to pull herself up in time to avoid a collision, and then stood there staring at him, shifting from foot to foot. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then turned in the direction he knew Rush to be, uncertainty clear on her features when she looked back at him. Something was going on, and he obviously wasn't welcome. She must have read his expression, because suddenly she somehow shifted closer and spoke, voice pitched low.

"She's not expecting visitors, Sir; it's too early." Oh. "I'm just going to get her some more water. He's awake, and he seems to be doing better, so she's trying to clean him up a bit more. Umm, sorry, Sir- you'll need to be quiet if you're staying. She won't want distractions." Her face was apologetic. _Don't shoot the messenger…_ he smiled slightly, and nodded.

"Sir." She stood to attention, before slipping round him and moving off. TJ was right; it really _was_ too early for visitors. He hesitated, wondering if he should come back later, when a soft female hiss drew him instantly into the room, worried. He stopped short at the sight before him; the sound of the door heaving shut, cutting off any retreat, barely registered. Irrational, ridiculous jealously swamped him.

She was perched on the edge of the bed, one knee either side of the scientist, inner thighs resting against his shoulders; he sat in the chair before her, form cocooned in blankets against the cool air. She'd lowered the bed, and his head rested back against her abdomen, her fingers brushing through his hair.

_What the hell?_

He seethed, insides twisting in envious rage, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd stepped forward, hands raised. _Idiot._ The quiet, sensible part of his mind pulled him back, and he blinked with awareness of what he was doing.

It took a shameful amount of time for him to comprehend that not only did her knees keep him upright, they prevented him from twisting away- moreover, she wasn't stroking his hair, but picking through it.

The red fog faded away when he fully understood that there was nothing remotely pleasant about this for either of them, and he closed his eyes briefly, unwilling to face himself or his imagination. Rush jerked, and she hissed again, whispering soft apologies, and he knew the noise before had been in pained sympathy for the Doctors benefit, not her own. Young realised she was talking softly, murmuring as one would to a child. He edged closer, perching upon another bed, simply watching, marvelling again at how amazingly gentle she could be, evidently enough so to coax the scientist into such a situation, and keep him there, despite the hurt reflected in the tautness of his features. It was that and her compassion as much as anything else that had drawn him to her; not to mention the well of strength that resided within her, a little pillar of fire that she kept hidden.

Reaching to her side where he couldn't see, she raised a hand gripping a damp cloth. With care she moistened the locks; when they were wet enough she teased clumps of matted hair and dirt free, dropping the mess to the floor, drawing her fingers through the length in an attempt to loosen the tangles. A towel, until now unnoticed, cushioned his head and protected her lap, and she used a corner to wipe away the dirty trail the water left behind. Gradually, she worked her way through, a little at a time, tilting his head as necessary, unwavering irrespective of the obvious pain she caused him. It was time-consuming, painstaking work, and it truly surprised the Colonel that he allowed her administrations; he honestly wouldn't have thought the man would willingly accept more pain, regardless of the circumstances.

_It has to be done,_ he realised. It was probably easier to have someone else, particularly someone who could see what they were doing, work through it than to attempt it himself. The door laboured open, and he saw Rush jump, wide-eyed in startlement and not a little fear at the unexpected intrusion; she gripped his head in gentle reassurance, making soothing noises even as James quietly called out her return.

"Just a little more and I'll have it. Promise," the medic murmured. He frowned. _Have what? _It took a while for the scientist to relax back against her, and she used the time to turn toward James, intent on receiving the water. Their eyes locked, and she stared, gob smacked.

'_How long?' _She mouthed. He nodded his head at James- she could assume what she liked from that. It hurt that she looked deeply uncomfortable at his presence, even though he knew it was more on behalf of Rush than herself. Asking James to bring her some clean cloth and another bowl, she turned back to her patient, easing his head forward. The other woman pottered around her, briskly efficient, taking care of things without having to be asked. He allowed his thoughts to wander, going over the days' preparations, until a pained gasp from the scientist drew him back. He'd managed to pull forward away from her, and she was leaning over him, fingers resting on his shoulders.

"Shhh," she soothed, "I'm sorry. I'm there now. I need to clean it, Doctor Rush, and it looks deep enough to need stitches, I'm afraid. Come on, not much longer. Let me clean it, please? I know the antiseptic stings- I'll be quick, promise. I can numb it in a minute. Come on." Slowly she drew him back, settling him again, her tone and words easing his distress enough for him to comply. Young closed his eyes, turned away. He didn't want to see the other mans' pain. Ignoring it didn't make it go away, and irrepressible guilt flared again, mixing with mild nausea. He could taste bile at the back of his throat, and he sighed, silently, rested his head in his hand. TJ spoke again, surprisingly teasing, and her words made him smile faintly.

"I'm surprised this one didn't give you concussion."

"Thick skull," was the muttered reply. She chuckled lightly.

"No comment!"

He tipped his head, resting his jaw on his knuckles and forced himself to watch her. He knew how much head wounds hurt; knew that when she started cleaning it out it'd probably bleed like a bitch. It took an unpleasant amount of time before she was satisfied, and the other man was beyond white by the time she finished, shivering and sweating beneath the blankets. She carefully took the proffered swab from Lieutenant James, and laid them in the wound. He jerked, biting down on but not quite cutting off a slight whimper, face contorted in pain, but very quickly he slumped and sighed in relief.

"Hold his hair out the way, please?" James complied, and to Rush she continued, "You'll feel a pulling, weird, but it won't hurt. If you want me to pause, just let me know, okay?" He grunted, which she took for assent, and began. He'd had stitches, plenty of times, both with and without anaesthetic; he knew what a peculiar sensation it could be. The scientist was oddly pliant beneath her touch, and it didn't take her long to finish. _She's good._ Beckoning James close, she made a request.

"Can you pop down the mess, Vanessa? I could really do with a cup of that tea." _No, really, you couldn't. That is _not_ tea…_ "If you could get some more of the protein mix, too, that'd be great. Maybe some meat strips if there's any left. Oh, the Colonel should be up and about by now; if you see him, tell him if he's coming by to do it this afternoon." She looked pointedly in his direction, and he squirmed unnoticeably. "I intend for Doctor Rush to sleep for a few hours." The scientist gave a snort. "Tough," she continued cheerily. "You are."

James smiled. "Sure thing." She moved toward the door, before turning to wait for him. TJs' gesture was unmistakable, and he carefully slid off the bed, moving silently after the dark haired Lieutenant. Once outside, he gave her a lopsided smile.

"Well I guess I have my orders. Mess hall?" She gamely returned the gesture, and nodded.

_It was, _he decided, _going to be one of those days._


	4. Enemies

Umm, hi?

I am so sorry for the delay! I hope I've made the wait worth while.

Okay, this? It's 20 pages in Word. Can you believe it? I can't, though I think my fingers can! I think it's coz there's a lot of talking here. Bit of filling at the beginning, coz I like keeping them on their toes. And the Colonel gets annoyed when he feels useless.

Just so as you know, I am aware that some of the grammar is out. I'm mimicking normal speech patterns, rather than correct speech. However, if you see errors outside of speech, let me know, please? Also, **please note**: 'there are many conversations in _italics_ in this chapter; it denotes a person who cannot be seen speaking, i.e. someone using a radio'

Mr Evil asked a very good question- was the planet they found him on the one from Faith? To answer, no it wasn't- it's the planet I mentioned in Reflection, and I kinda had the background for it planned out in advance, just in case I ever cover it from Rush's POV, though it's not likely. You know, I'm beginning to think _they're_ stealing _my _ideas! *snickers* now if only they'd pay me…

Usual disclaimers. Of course :(

I know I'm late, but can I have reviews, pretty please? I'll love you forever and ever…

- - - - o0o - - - -

_-Record-_

_I don't know where to start. Well, I guess- 'we're screwed' is a good place. _Nervous laugh. _Seriously? The last day has been completely fucked up, sorry mom. God, I've never said that word before. Nothing's ever felt, you know, bad enough. But this?_

_- __Eli-_

_Hang on! Things were all going so well. Now Matt's a mess- I think TJ's really worried about him. Hah, I always thought Greer would be the one to go all loopy, ya know? Matt's the sane one. God, I think he's gonna do something stupid. I mean, I know the Colonel's been on at him, hell, I was there- that was scary, I'm telling you, and he's good for now, but if he doesn't get answers soon..._

_-__Eli?_

_He might go to Rush himself. Who might not know anything anyway. Which'll just make him more depressed. And Rush worse. I mean, we all wanna do something, but the Colonel's right. What can we do? _Destiny's_ not working, and even if it was, it's not like we know where to start. I wish he was wrong. Everyone's praying Rush has the answers. Not that the Colonel's been able to wake him up to ask. TJ's worried about him, too. Heh, TJ's worried about everyone, even those who _weren't_ hurt. It's all so messed up. How did this happen? What did we do?_

_Why her?_

_-E__li!_

_Yeah, yeah. Coming_

_-File saved-_

_._

_._

An understatement if ever there was one, though not in the sense that he had anticipated. _So much for an easy day…_

The first indication that something had gone wrong was a light tremor running through the deck plating shortly after Becker had cleared away breakfast. Not loud enough to do more than raise a few eyebrows, and not bearing a big enough impact to drop them from FTL, it was still quite obviously a problem. Lights flickered, but settled quickly. His radio query as he made his way to the Control Room had been answered with an 'err', and he was less than happy when he finally entered the room.

"Tell me you have something." It was not a request. The Colonel made no attempt to hide his impatience as they procrastinated, and the scientists scurried out of his way, shooting him wary, surreptitious glances. _Damn it, people!_

"An overload!" He turned instantly to Eli, focusing his full attention upon him. Not even the young mans expression of comical relief shifted his irritation. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue; when he failed, Young ground out,

"Where?"

"Oh, sorry." One look at Young's face was enough to convince him to elaborate, and he stammered slightly, "Umm, an overload in one of the forward service sections. It's caused all of the doors in that area to slam shut, including the walk ways. Simultaneously. That's what the shudder was. Err, there's still air being pumped in, and there doesn't seem to be any problem with environmental controls, so that's good. Umm, Colonel? The shut-off's included some of the personnel areas. There's a half dozen peoples' quarters in that section. They're fine, though. Really."

He sighed, relaxing slightly, the nervous tension in his belly uncoiling. He'd been expecting worse. _In fairness, it usually is…_

"Well?"

"Well? Oh, right- it shouldn't take long to fix. We'll need to by-pass a few areas, re-route the power _here_, probably- err, you don't really care how we do it, do you?" Young fixed the nervous youth with a blank stare.

"No. I'll have Scott and James meet you here. Two teams, a third if you think it necessary. Eli you monitor and direct from the Control Room-" he overrode the plaintive 'me?' "-_yes_ you. Get on it. Talk the Lieutenants through what you'll need. Is the comm. system still working? Good," he responded to Volker's nod, and moved to the scientist, expectant.

"Well?" He hated having to repeat himself_. This is getting ridiculous. _The other man stuttered apologies as he brought it online, and Young clamped down on his exasperation, aware that he was being grossly unfair.

"Thank you Mr. Volker. This is Colonel Young; listen up. We have a situation in the forward area- non serious, please do not panic. An overload has caused several doors to close. We are working to resolve the problem. There is no fault with air or environmental controls, so there's nothing to worry about. Hang tight, and we'll get to you as soon as we can. Lieutenants Scott and James, report to the Control Room. Young out."

He half expected to hear Rush's voice scolding the science team for their lassitude and timidity, even as he snapped scathingly at the Colonel to mind out the way and let them work. He sighed. Much as he disliked the man, and whilst he was under no impression that the temperamental scientist would have welcomed his presence, he was fully aware that the problem would undoubtedly be solved sooner if Rush were here driving them along. _Ah well. Make do._

The Lieutenants arrived promptly, and he explained the situation to them. Leaving them in the hands of the scientists, he strode from the room and made his way to the forward section. His progress was slow- everywhere people were milling in the halls, understandably anxious, and he took a few minutes to speak to each of them, reassure them, convince them it wasn't serious. It was time-consuming, but necessary, and often they returned to their quarters or wandered off when satisfied there was no threat.

"Man, but they're like sheep." He turned to Greer, mildly surprised by the other mans presence. He caught the slight sneer on the other mans face, and frowned; when he spoke, he pitched his voice low, not wishing to be overheard.

"They're worried, Sergeant. Understandably. One serious hull breach and we could all be dead." _They're the wrong people..._How many times had he said that? Soon, they'd have to start being the _right_ people, purely through circumstance and necessity. The man looked suitably chastised.

"Sir." The Colonel levelled him a long look, then nodded, satisfied. Together they moved to the afflicted area. _At least the overload's not affecting the lights,_ he thought ruefully. That would have been just typical.

"Think we'll need to blow it, Sir?" He turned to the Sergeant, cocked him a wry smile.

"Not that you'd mind that, would you Sergeant?" The response was a grin, and he smiled himself at the drawled 'no Sir.' He banged on the door and shouted in the hope that someone would hear him.

"Anyone there?"

"_Hallo? Colonel?"_

"Hang tight, we're getting you out. Can you spread the word?"

"_Yes, Colonel. Will do."_

"I'll want you back here when you're done. We may need to pass messages."

"_Of course."_ He turned to Greer, who looked at him quizzically.

"No idea, Sergeant. Be grateful there was someone there, though." He turned to face back up the corridor at the sound of approaching footsteps. Scott came to a stop before him, and the team spread out to begin…whatever it was they were going to do, Brody directing them.

"Sir. Volker has taken James and her group to another section. Something about bypassing the affected areas from a remote location? I guess a lot of the systems are interlinked. Riley's off doing something, too."

Young nodded. "Whatever it takes, Lieutenant." They watched in silence as the team were instructed to pull various panels off the walls; it looked like they planned on ripping the area apart. For the most part the three of them were ignored, though occasionally someone would shuffle round them with a muttered, down cast 'excuse me'. Unless they were military, in which case they were more jovial about the whole thing. Young listened with half an ear as Brody conversed with Eli over the radio, and moved to peer into one of the recesses created, fascinated. He wasn't particularly technically minded, but he still found Ancient technology interesting. Just as he was reaching within to trace a length of wiring, a long suffering huff was issued from his right. He straightened instantly, feeling irritatingly like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. _Which I guess I was, _he thought, amused. It just so happened that _this _cookie jar was Brody's, and contained fragile components. Looking to the scientist, he raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression cool. It didn't work as well as it usually did. _When did you start getting away from me, too? _First Eli, now Brody. Rush didn't count; had _never_ been intimidated. How long would it be before the other scientists started flexing their muscles? Still, he was confident they would _never_ push as hard as their team lead.

"Colonel, please. That's delicate machinery, and I'd rather you didn't touch it."

"No need to fret, Mr Brody. I'm just looking." The scientist scowled, not appreciating being made to look jittery.

"Excuse me, Colonel." The other man shuffled between him and the cavity. He backed off, turned, and caught Scott trying desperately hard not to smile. Greer had his back to him, fortunately. He sighed, fixed the Lieutenant with a grin and rolled his eyes; the younger man coughed and turned away, not wanting to dissolve into laughter. The military gathered to help were equally amused, and even some of the civilians risked uncertain smiles, not entirely sure who had gotten the upper hand, but grateful all the same that no argument had broken out.

_You've not been playing this game nearly long enough, Mr Brody._ Certainly; the man had a lot to learn. He took a back seat, watching these people work together. Or perhaps, work around each other might be a better way of describing it; there didn't seem to be any coordination, and only a thin veneer of cooperation between them. That would have to be addressed at some point. _Sometime between crisis's, anyway_.

A few of hours passed, with them being moved this way and that, and the occasional conversation through the door. Half an hour ago Eli had called to say that Volker had managed to get the doors behind this one open, but they were now jammed in that position instead. Yes, Eli had said, he'd known that would happen. Yes, they'd deal with that later. Young had nodded, not thrilled, but it was still better than people being stuck in their rooms. No real progress had been made since then. He'd long since dismissed Greer, who had begun to look irritably bored, and the small talk he and Scott had tried had fallen flat. Everyone was busy apart from them, and he _really _didn't like doing nothing. Brody had sweetly offered to call him when things changed; he'd long since begun to regret turning down that offer.

He checked his watched. Again.

"Seven minutes after the last time you looked, Sir." Scott's lips twitched, though his eyes shone. He didn't have the luxury of leaning back against the wall like his Lieutenant, and despite doing _nothing _for the last three and a half hours he was feeling stiff and ill-used. A loud clanking rumbled into the quiet, and he jumped, turning to the door. Even Brody sounded startled when he spoke from his position on his knees, half inside one of the access panels.

"Got it."

The door laboured open, jammed- Young and several of his personnel instantly leapt forward to insinuate themselves in the gap, and between them they forced the doors open. Beyond was crowed an elated group of weary people, delighted at finally being freed. They didn't need to be told even once, and hurried out before the ship had a chance to change its mind, calling their thanks to their rescuers as they went. Given that Young made no move to let go, they stayed holding the doors; it wasn't long before Brody said the words he wanted to hear.

"That should do it, it's now jammed in that position. You can let go, it's not going anywhere."

They did so with a relief that disappeared when Young began organising teams to enter the unblocked sections.

"Make sure no one else is trapped. I know they're all supposed to be open, just keep you eyes out. Scott, take point." He watched them go.

"Umm, Colonel?" He turned to look at a civilian; mid-forties, dark blond, average build, well kept. "We were talking?"

"Ah." The voice on the other side. He held out a hand, which the other man took, surprised and pleased. "Good work back there. If you come with me, we'll get everyone to the mess for something to eat and drink, and we can have a talk along the way. Any injuries?"

"No, Colonel, not that anyone's said. Guys?" Heads were shaken.

"That's good." Turning, he looked at Brody and what remained of his team. "Nicely done, Mr Brody. Thank you." That was clearly unexpected, and Brody blinked, looked around as many of those rescued murmured their thanks again. "Get yourselves down to the mess, too, when you catch a break. I'll have Becker set aside extra rations for all of you."

"Thank you, Colonel. That's very kind of you. It wasn't anything, really." He demurred, now unsure of himself, his earlier hostility gone. _See? I can do carrot, too. Now can we get back to normal?_

"I wouldn't say that, and I'm sure _they_ wouldn't either. I'll swing by later." With a nod, he turned and led the others away.

- - - - o0o - - - -

'_Colonel Young, come in.'_

'_Colonel Young?'_

With a groan he rolled sideways, fumbling for the radio.

"Young here. Go."

'_Sorry to wake you, Sir, but we thought you'd want to know- we'll be dropping out of FTL in half an hour.'_

_Damn_. "Thank you Lieutenant. I'll be there shortly. Out." A shame; he'd actually been sleeping quite well, which was a relief- he'd gone to bed with a raging headache and mild nausea, both of which were now gone. Pushing himself upright, he kicked his legs off the bed and ran both hands through his hair. _Duty calls…_ Now why did that sound like Rush? Speaking of- he'd meant to get down the infirmary before they dropped out. He'd have to have words with Scott about letting him sleep in past the time he'd wanted to be called, not that he was complaining too much. He dressed quickly. There were more people out than he expected- probably they were waiting to see what this new stop held.

Swinging by the mess, he grabbed a mug of not-quite-tea, and wound his way to the Control Room, shuddering slightly at the first few sips. It was depressing to think that he may one day become used to the taste. He paused at the threshold, taking time to watch the occupants unseen; the room was a hive of activity. All the scientists were gathered, as well as Wray, Scott and surprisingly TJ. Moving into the room, he threw her a worried look, but she smiled, making her way over to him.

"I'm about to head back now, Sir. He was dozing when I left and Vanessa was with him. I'd hoped there would be a chance to gather some more samples, but Eli was just explaining that this isn't going to be a vacation spot." He sighed.

"I'm afraid not. Even if there is plant life there, I doubt it would survive in our atmosphere. If there is anything, though, I'll make sure it's brought back. You never know…"

She smiled again. "No indeed. Sir," she drew herself up straight, and with a nod of permission from Young she left.

"Umm, we still have about ten minutes." He looked over at Eli.

"Is there anything else we need to know about this planet?"

"Not really, I don't think. I still don't know why we're stopping there." The young man looked despondent.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. Scott, get hold of Murray- the two of you get suited up. Brody, head up to the Gateroom- you'll be on controls. No, Eli- I want you here initially," he pre-empted the mathematician's request, ignored the flash of disappointment. "When we figure out what we're looking at, you can head off up there. Riley can control the Kino first time through." He nodded at the engineer, and the three named set off to their appointed tasks. The air grew more relaxed as time ticked away, though Everett could feel his skin prickling with the weight of someone's stare. Turning, he walked to the woman responsible.

"Can I help you Ms. Wray?"

She smiled. "Lieutenant Johansen seems pleased with his progress." He was well aware that, even though their conversation was hushed, all ears were bent to them.

"She is. He has a long way to go, mind, but he's getting there."

"How fortunate." The pause was slightly too long. "For all of us." The silence that followed was heavy and nobody moved, waiting in fearful expectation for the Colonels reaction.

"Yes, indeed, Ms. Wray." The smile he fixed her, that only she could see, was less than pleasant. She didn't baulk, though, meeting his gaze head-on. "Maybe we'll be able to get the heating fixed."

He turned away, refusing to play her game. It was a running joke, actually; since Rush had been…gone, the temperature control had been playing up, and no one had been able to figure out why. It had at first been a bleak source of amusement, but had rapidly become irksome. People had raided unused rooms for spare blankets when the first chilly night had occurred; the first heat wave had seen everyone wearing as little as they could get away with. It wasn't usually so extreme, however- most often it was merely a nuisance. Greer had joked that maybe Rush had spiked the system. Young hadn't found the suggestion funny.

"Err, less than a minute."

"Thank you, Eli." He made his way over, ignoring the sudden tension in the room. _Damn woman. Trust her…_the wariness that had been fading since the Doctors' return was once again sharp, a palpable thing weighing heavily on their minds. _They'd just begun to forget it._ He felt a headache coming on. The world shifted as they dropped out of FTL, and it took everyone a brief moment to gather their bearings.

'_Colonel Young, this is Scott. The Gate is dialling.'_

"Thank you, Scott. Keep me posted." A chime sounded, and he frowned. _That's a new one._

"I think we have a problem." He snapped round to Eli, seeing the fear in his voice reflected in his face. The young man was staring at him wide-eyed. "There's ships…in orbit. I think… I think they're _firing _on the planet. Oh, God…" he trailed off. For a heartbeat, time stretched out into infinity as everyone struggled to make sense of his words, unable or unwilling to believe them to be true. No one moved, no one dared breathe. At any moment, the tension in the room would shatter, and then… Young grabbed his radio, his voice clipped when he spoke.

"Someone get to the Observation deck, tell me what you see." The response was instant.

'_On it, Sir.'_ Airman Marsden. _Good. He's level headed. _

"Talk to me, Eli." He kept his tone calm, not wanting to panic the youth further, though in truth his own insides were tied in knots. He watched Eli fumble with the controls, fear making him clumsy.

"Eli-" he began, but was abruptly cut off by the radio.

'_Colonel, what the hell is going on?'_

"Scott?"

'_We just sent the Kino through- it's raining hellfire out there, Sir. You wouldn't believe it!'_

"What do you see?" It was an effort to keep his voice level. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He was well aware that everyone in the room was watching him; more than that- everyone on the ship who could hear his voice was hanging desperately onto his words, particularly after Scott's announcement. There were going to be a lot of frightened people out there, and they would all be looking to him. He straightened. This…this is what he _did._

'_Looks like…a city, Sir, built around the gate. It's huge. God, it's burning big time. I can't see anyone; no one's making a break for the Gate. A surprise attack, maybe?' _

"Eli, patch it through. Scott, we have company up here. Hang tight. They're not paying any attention to us-" an ominous chime sounded, and he felt gooseflesh rise on his arms. _Spoke too soon…_He looked to Volker, who confirmed the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"They know we're here. I think we were just scanned…two of them, they're moving. Coming around to face us…" he trailed off, expression helpless and fearful. Eli's soft voice drew attention to the display he'd just activated. Young swallowed as he watched the slaughter, grief for a race he didn't know washing over him, matched by fear for the people he was responsible for. And anger… _how dare they…_

'_Sir, Marsden, Sir. Looks like five ships- heavy planetary bombardment. Whoever's down there, Sir, I don't think they stand much of a chance.'_ He easily read the sorrow in the soldiers' voice. Cold shot through him.

_Right_. He started barking orders, calm and in control. He needed to keep these people safe, somehow. "Ms. Wray, get down to Lieutenant Johansen- tell her to expect wounded, and get a medical team organised. She may need help. Brody," he spoke into the radio, "get that Gate shut- If people do try running, I don't want to be tying it up for them. Then you and Riley get back here. Marsden, stay put. Peterson, Murray, organise defence teams. Scott, Greer, hit the shuttle." He turned to those in the room.

"Volker, keep an eye on our defences, and get me a comm. channel open. Eli, weapons." He moved forward, watching as Eli worked the console. Volker spoke, his voice on the edge of hysteria.

"They're in firing range, Colonel. Their weapons are locked on us. I'm reading an energy build up – they're firing!" _Destiny _shivered.

"Eli-?"

"Uh, oh God, only thirty percent of the weapons are coming online." The young man looked across at Volker, panic stricken. It was Brody who answered, however, coming into the room at a run.

"Rush put limits on how many could be activated at once-" Eli interrupted.

"-Right, right, after what happened to Riley," he looked apologetically to the engineer, before turning his attention to the Colonel. "We were still in the process of checking each gun's functionality."

"Well, find a way around it, Eli."

"Working on it." The ship shuddered again, lights flickered.

Volker jumped in, looking at him. "Ready when you are." The Colonel moved to the intercom, steadied himself, and activated it.

"This is Young, listen up. We are under attack. Please do not panic. Defence has been organised, and this old girl still has a surprise or two up her sleeve. All civilians please return to your quarters. It'll be safest there. Hang tight and try and remain calm, we'll ride this out together, people. Know that we are doing everything we can. God speed. Young out."

"Colonel, I'm reading multiple smaller objects- half the size of the shuttle perhaps. They're heading this way. They're firing! Oh God, what do we do?"

"Weapons, Eli!"

The young man looked up indignant and full of panic, face cast in eerie shadow as the lights went briefly. "Hey! Hey! First real space battle over here!" Even as the ship shuddered from multiple impacts against the shield, Young fought down the insane urge to smile.

"Shields…are holding. Seventy five percent." _No need to sound so surprised, Volker. _

"Brody, monitor what's going on out there. Eli, where are my damn weapons?"

"-Here! Got it! Firing now." He felt the rhythmic pulse through the decking as _Destiny_ returned fire, strong and steady as a heartbeat. He looked round, appraising, proud. They were more than holding, they were coping- even if it was only just._ Crucible of fire_…

Sparks flew as circuitry gave out overhead; everyone flinched and ducked. Violent shaking coursed through the Ancient vessel as enemy fire struck, but they held firm. The Colonel swayed in motion with the ship as far as he was able to, maintaining a tight hold on the console beside him. Metal work groaned ominously as they took a pounding.

"Shielding at sixty nine percent. Colonel, some of those ships are getting in real close- I think they're _under _the shield."

"Are they attacking?" he suppressed a shiver; an attack at suck close quarters would prove devastating. Another tremor ran through his feet.

"No Colonel, I don't know _what_ they're doing!"

"Odd. Too close for the main guns?" He frowned at Volker's 'yep', and reached for his radio. "Scott, we got a couple getting up close and personal. Get rid of them."

'_Will do, Sir. Err-' God do I hate that sound,_ he thought, irritated_ '-you'll have to wait a minute, sorry Sir. We're in pretty tight.'_ The signal crackled- he could make out the unpleasant sound of minor explosions, the hissing whine of overexerted systems. _'Will be there ASAP, Sir.'_

"Don't put yourselves at risk with some stupid stunt, Lieutenant."

'_No Sir.' _He sighed, doubting either man would listen. Scott was usually reasonable, but Greer... He smiled absently, clutched at the console to keep his balance as _Destiny_ lurched. His stomach flipped as the lights flickered off remaining that way for several breaths before flickering back into fretful existence, and he turned to Riley. The engineer had taken it upon himself to monitor the ship, and was now looking decidedly pale.

"That one got through, Sir." _No shit. _There was heavy silence as everyone paused, a still moment in the battle, and took a second to look at each other. He could almost read their thoughts, knew they were all identical.

"Bound to happen," he soothed, firmly quashing their imaginings, "just keep an eye on things, Riley."

Another terrible blow, accompanied by the wail of stricken metal, and his knees buckled as he fought desperately to remain standing. He clung frantically to the console, sprawled bodily across it. _Damn it!_ Lights flicked in a strobing effect, made worse by the rain of sparks all around them; the room was bathed a frightful shade of orange by an eruption of fire. The unpleasant smell of burning filled his nostrils and he tried to blink smoke from his eyes- the scene spread around him was as a nightmare. _God, don't be something serious…_those that had fallen clambered unsteadily to their feet.

"Report!"

"It looks like it hit outside of the safe-zones, Sir. It's pretty bad, there's now another whole section exposed to space- the doors have locked down. Beyond some blown conduits, we look-" Brody cut him off.

"They're leaving!" _What?_

'_We got them on the run, Sir! We're in pursuit.'_ He frowned at the exultation in Scott's voice, even as his gut clenched uneasily. This did not feel right. He saw the terrified delight on Eli's face, could almost hear the silent praying of the others.

"No," he spoke into the comm. Get back here."

'_But-'_

"That's an order, Lieutenant." _Why the hell am I repeating myself?_ As he listened to the audibly disappointed 'yes Sir' he realised- they were excited, hyped. They'd won, and wanted to finish it. _Young blood._ He smiled at their fiery impatience. He'd have a word with them about following orders and thinking sensibly, but not the dressing down he'd intended scant seconds ago. He wasn't about to berate them for their enthusiasm and dedication.

"Colonel, they've jumped." Brody's voice was loud in the quiet that had fallen, disturbed only by the spasmodic fizzling from behind the damaged panels; he looked round at their faces, they all seemed stunned, none of them quite able to believe what had just happened. _Nor can I, for that matter._

"But," Eli began, "there were, like, _five_ of them. We weren't _winning_!" dark eyes were turned to him, desperate for an explanation he couldn't give. He shrugged, fixed Eli with a lopsided smile.

"Answered and blessed, Eli. Don't knock it. Damage report."

He watched as Brody switched stations, bringing up a display; he winced inwardly at the multitude of areas flashing red. The scientist must have seen something in his face, for he smiled shakily.

"Actually, Colonel, it's not that bad. Well, it could be a lot worse, look at it that way. We've only lost a few more compartments to space. It'll take time, but we should be able to get a lot of the other structural damage repaired. I'll get a report drawn up for you."

"Good work." _That's a relief. _"Weapons and defence?" Volker and Eli exchanged a look, before the younger man shrugged and began.

"Weapons are…well, I don't really know. Sorry," he interjected hastily. "It's just- the weapons we'd already fixed are ok. The ones that I brought online? Not so much. About a third have blown, the rest aren't operating anywhere near peak efficiency and it's shorted out a number of relays, too. Again, fixable, but…" he slumped. "A lot of the damaged sections are in the same places." He gestured vaguely at the flickering display. "Can't fix them till we fix the ship. Sorry."

Young sighed. "Stop apologising, Eli. We'll compile a detailed report, and then prioritise. Put together work teams to deal with each problem."

"Shields are low, but still holding." _Ah, a bit of good news._ "Fortunately, we can get those repaired relatively easy. Well, comparatively."

The Colonel nodded, and then glanced around the room, taking in some of the mismatched heroes of the hour and their shell-shocked expressions. His smile was genuine.

"Good work people, believe me. You should _all_ be proud. Get me an open channel." He noted the way they straightened, new life breathed into them, and hastened to their tasks. _There'll be some celebrating later. _He smiled slightly.

"This is Colonel Young. We have successfully repelled the attack. The enemy has run. Well done, people, all of you. Hang tight for a while longer, there's going to be plenty of repair work to go around. Help each other out as best you can, get the injured to the infirmary. Peterson, Murray, stand your teams down and lend a hand. Good work everyone. Young out."

He grabbed his radio and called for Ms Wray next, issuing orders when she responded.

"Camille, can you work with Lieutenant Johansen and get me a full personnel list? Active, active injured, out of action. The Lieutenant will know what I'm looking for." He didn't say 'dead', knew she would understand. _Might as well put you to some use._

'_Of course, Colonel. I'm on it.'_

"Does Johansen need a hand down there?"

'_Wouldn't hurt. Anyone with any basic training will be useful. There's no real time for TJ to supervise, but there are plenty of minor injuries to be taken care of.'_

"Understood. I'll get her some hands." With luck the majority of injuries would be bruises and lacerations. Still, he was worried, would be until the tally came in, and he couldn't help the nervousness that fluttered in his belly. Something in the wall _hissed_ suddenly_, _and smoke wisped from behind a panel; they spun to face a new 'threat', Eli stifling a cry of alarm, and even he jumped slightly. He broke the heavy silence, a surprising thought occurring to him.

"Were they the same aliens?" The others exchanged an uneasy glance.

"Err, don't know." He frowned at the young mathematician, not missing the fear in his voice.

"Don't know? Either they were or they weren't. We've got details of one of their ships on file."

"Honestly, Colonel, we can't tell." He turned to Brody. "That ship on file? Nothing like these. That one was much smaller, different configuration. Of course, that doesn't mean much. Look at the difference between the _Hammond _and an X-302. From a side by side comparison, you wouldn't know they were both built by Earth. Sorry Colonel, we just don't know."

He bit down on the frustration and helplessness, knowing the other man was right.

"Although…come on." Eli huffed a nervous laugh. "What're the chances of their being _two_ massively hostile races in the same patch of galaxy? Seriously? Umm, unless they're fighting over it." The youth looked down, crestfallen. "Oh…"

_Damn…_A thought occurred to him.

"Well, we know someone who might know. Can you transfer an image of one of those ships to a handheld? Good, do it." Taking the pad from Brody, he studied it thoughtfully. Based around a blockish, squat build, the ships weren't overly attractive by human standards, but were certainly intimidating. They gave him the same sort of feeling a bulldog did; all muscle and ferocious with it. He suppressed a shiver. Looking up as the circuits crackled again, causing everyone to jump, he frowned at the sparks which streamed down again.

"Get that fixed. Give me a call when you're finished with the reports and I'll be back." When they murmured acknowledgement, he gave a brisk nod and left. The transition from the relative calm of the Control Room and the surrounding areas to the barely restrained chaos of the main corridors was startling. The walking injured were everywhere, the shock of recent events obvious. A number of people seemed numb to the world around them, while others were ignoring their own well being and trying to help. The lights flickered out and came back again- he caught the soft cries of the desperately frightened. He had intended to swing by the shuttle first, have that chat with the two pilots, but realised immediately that it was far more important he be here. He stepped forward; as soon as people noticed him, they turned to him with a pleading in their eyes that made his heart clench. Knowing what they needed most right now was direction, someone to shoulder the responsibility; he began gently issuing orders even as he moved to help an older woman who was having difficulty walking.

"Who has some medical training?"

The lights flickered again; plaintive murmuring began and people jumped, disorientated. Panic threatened to explode when the ship groaned beneath them. It was an effort of will to keep them calm, but it was easy to focus their frightened attention on him; they _needed _him, needed someone to be in charge, to simply make things right.

"Anyone?" A few people recovered, stepping forward and raised their hand. Others followed.

"Good. If you are able, help those having difficulty walking; if someone can't stand, shout for help- we'll carry them. All head injuries need to be checked out, and watch out for the quiet ones- they often don't realise how badly they're hurt."

A man came forward to support the woman, and he voiced his thanks. Raising the radio, he put out the call for any military personnel with medical training to report to the infirmary.

Moving through the throng, he organised teams of civilian and military alike to spread out through the ship to find those in need. Setting people to work kept them occupied; busy hands were busy minds. He projected an air of quiet confidence that served to keep people calm; when the ship protested around them elevating their fear he would raise his voice slightly- an encouraging word here, a hand of support there. Gradually he reached the infirmary, guiding a dazed young man who had been thrown against a bulkhead. James was there, moving down a queue of injured people; he listened to her voice, competent and firm, calling for those with head wounds and deep lacerations to move forward. When she saw him she approached, guiding appraising fingers over his wounded companion.

"Made friends with a wall. Took a blow to the back of the head by the looks of it." She nodded and instructed the Colonel to take him inside. Within was organised chaos. Cots had been rigged on the floor; the injured able to do so sat two or three to a bed. People were moving everywhere, both patients and attendees, while overhead the lights fritzed; it was surprisingly quiet, a fact terribly out of place where there were so many wounded, and he swallowed. Instinctively TJ raised her head towards him, eyes instantly focused on the man he supported.

"Head?"

He nodded. "Possibly other injuries. He was thrown." She nodded in return, guiding them to a bed. The occupants sitting there carefully vacated, and Young helped lift him up onto it. He studied her a moment without her noticing; she looked frazzled, tired, but in control. Turning round as she began an examination, the original reason for his coming here not forgotten, he searched through the crowd. Terror jolted through him as he realised the bed was occupied by another.

"TJ," his voice came out irrationally strangled.

"I had him moved just after the attack started, don't worry. He's in one of the quarantine rooms." He frowned, even as the relief made his head spin. The idea of Rush dying _now_ was somehow shocking, far more so than it had a right to be. He rather doubted the Doctor was enjoying himself; they'd never managed to get the lights in those rooms up and working, and the doors had a habit of locking themselves. With no windows, no light, and no way out, he couldn't imagine Rush had gone either quietly or willingly. She read his thoughts.

"We rigged some standing lights, and I've put a wedge in the door- it won't close fully. I've had to use the others, too- Channing, Mason and Peters and a few others are in them tending to some of the minor injuries. We simply can't fit everyone in here." She sounded frustrated, on edge, and that was no surprise. She turned back to her patient.

"Which room?" At her absent 'hmm?' he clarified.

"Rush. Which room is he in?" He didn't miss the way she froze.

"Rush?"

"Yes, Lieutenant; Rush." He snapped, and grimaced. He hadn't meant to take that tone.

"One," she answered automatically, responding to the command. As he went to move off, she added hastily, "but you can't…"

"Excuse me?"

She visibly steeled herself. "You can't disturb him, not right now." He stared at her, his expression carefully blank. Really, he could understand her concern for a patient, especially given how ill he was, but that was taking things too far. _She doesn't need it now. Talk to her later._ Without a word he spun and strode away. He heard her voice cry out for someone to take over, and knew she was following him. His temper flared, and he quickened his step. _Damn that man!_ It was easy to slip through the crowd; they took one look at him and moved out of the way. The doors were practically shut, but a chunk of metal prevented it from closing like she had said, and opened when he struck the panel, hard, venting some of his anger; he stepped carefully over the wedge. The last thing he wanted to do was get stuck in a room with _him._

The ambience of the small room was eerie. Rush lay on his side, much like he usually did, but unexpectedly didn't stir at the intrusion. The lights bleached the colour from the room, casting the scientist in pale shades and the corners of the room in shadows. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, but he moved toward the bed. Suddenly a hand on his arm arrested his motion and he whirled, teeth grit as he looked at the medic.

"Lieutenant," he growled. Her face was desperate.

"No, Colonel, you literally _can't._" The door slid shut, clunking against the stop. Neither stirred, the air tensely heavy with desperation and frustrated irritation.

"He's heavily sedated," she admitted quietly, and his anger evaporated in a flash of worry. "I didn't want to have that conversation out there- only Vanessa knows. She was there."

"TJ?" She wrung her hands.

"He was okay, sleeping. Then the attack started. He just…well, he freaked. I can't put it any other way." She sighed and moved to the bed, laying her fingers against the pulse in his neck.

"He was so far beyond terrified I don't even know if there's a word for it. He tried to run for it, fought us off. Everett, he was _screaming._ I can only think he thought they'd come back; I don't even think he knew where he was, or who we were. It took everything Vanessa had to pin him to the floor, but she nearly couldn't. That black eye? His elbow." She lay her hand gently over his neck. He didn't so much as twitch. Moving close behind her, he gently squeezed her shoulder. She was shaking. "I've had to reset his fingers. _Again._ I'm pretty sure we've done his ribs. Damn it, Colonel, I'm meant to _help_ him, not make things worse. What if he never trusts me again?" Her voice quivered.

"TJ…" he cast around for some reassurance that didn't sound pathetic. "TJ, if he was that far out of it, he won't even know what you've done. He won't remember. Was there _anything_ else you could have done?" She shook her head. "Then you have _nothing_ you can berate yourself over. Okay?"

She gave him a watery smile, and whispered her thanks.

"How long is he likely to be out?"

"About four hours, maybe? It's hard to tell. He's not metabolising our drugs at the normal rate, and there's still traces of _theirs_ in his system that are interfering." Closing his eyes against that little fact he heard her sigh. "Give it four, unless I call you sooner."

He nodded. "You're doing great, Lieutenant. Don't you dare think otherwise. Go on." He gently turned her around and guided her towards the exit. Hesitating, he stepped sideways and put the pad in a corner of the room- there was no point carrying it around. Moving back he put his hands between the door halves, he _pushed_ hard and they slid apart.

"Why did you want to see him?"

"A question." He shook his head, fixed her with a wry smile. "Nothing that can't wait a while." It was irksome, but unavoidable- pretending otherwise was to pick a battle he could never win. They moved back into the infirmary proper, and parted ways.

Walking back out, he was pleased to see people were calmer. He stopped frequently to speak to those who came across his path, easing their fears as best he could. He paused briefly as the ship complained again- really, the sooner they got a full damage report the better. The lights went out as he walked, and this time they stayed that way. Soft whimpers whispered from the dark., but the Colonel had his torch out and lit before people had a chance to truly start panicking. Faint illumination came from a distance; another door, shut, but with poor light coming through the dirty glass.

"Let's clear this section, quickly now. Someone get that door open! Come on, move that way, that's it." With firm persistence he cajoled them in that direction, and eventually they were all through.

"All okay?" At their murmurs of assent, he nodded, spent a few minutes talking to them, and then headed back into the dark. He could go another way, but this was far quicker and really, it was only a lack of light. The door shut behind him and he moved forward. It didn't take him long to realise that this was a whole different type of darkness, a completely alien kind of silence. It closed in, smothering, threatening to choke him; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath just to prove to himself that he still could. The silence swallowed his footsteps, and he listened with sharpened hearing to the voice of the Ancient vessel. Metal shifted, creaking and groaning ominously; air sighed through the vents. Flashing the torchlight around, he quelled the fluttering in his chest, wishing he could scour the gooseflesh from his arms. _Damn it, man! You've walked this corridor more times than you can count. Pack it in!_ Everett scrubbed a hand through his hair and unconsciously quickened his pace, fighting the ridiculous urge to look behind him. Never had _Destiny's _corridors felt so uninviting.

He wondered which horror movie reference Eli would have likened this to and chuckled softly; the sound didn't echo.

Opening the door at the other end he passed through, taking a moment to gather himself in the welcome half light. It was an intense relief to be out of there. Calm once more, he continued towards the Control Room.

"Colonel! We were just about to call. We've got a preliminary report drawn up."

"Good work," he replied to Brody, mildly surprised at how quickly they'd gotten it done. _Why? They were members of the Icarus science team for a reason,_ he reminded himself. He acknowledged Matthew and Ms Wray, who shifted impatiently, before moving to the main core, studying the image intently. "What do we have?"

"Colonel-" he turned to Wray, raising an eyebrow. _Fair enough._ He waited, concerned by the look on her face.

"Of the military personnel; fifteen injured able, seven injured unable, twelve active. Three dead. I'm sorry. Of the civilians; seventeen injured able, four injured unable, fourteen active. Four dead" She closed her eyes and he just _knew_ she wasn't finished. "Colonel…we've accounted for everyone bar Airman Dunning and Chloe…" her voice trailed off, and she looked at him, hurting. His blood ran cold. _What the?_

"Missing?"

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, cleared her throat and tried again. "I don't think so," she managed at last. "I went by her quarters. Everett, there's a hole in the ceiling, right out into space. It's sealed off, but the missing piece is in on the floor, right underneath. It's _perfectly_ circular. Wasn't Dunning in that area, too?"

He barely heard her finish talking past the pounding in his ears and the clamour of voices around him. He had no idea who was speaking as he leant heavily on the console, nausea roiling through him. the voices melted one into the other, tearing through him.

"What the hell?"

"She can't be dead!"

"How can they be missing?

"A _hole_ in the _ship?"_

"Colonel-" he straightened.

"Enough! I want _every_ room checked. Every hallway, crawlspace, access area, air-vent big enough to fit in. Every damn cupboard- hell, check the crates in storage! Scott, get on it. Don't take help from TJ, but gather what people you need. If they're here, find them!" But he knew…

"What if they're not there?" The voice was quiet, pleading; he looked at Eli knowing his own helplessness was showing. "Where else are they?"

"Oh God…" Scott lurched, pale. "Those ships, the ones that got in close. Do you think? Could they?"

"I think so. Damn it!"

"They left because they got a bigger prize." Camille breathed, stricken. "Not because we were stronger." She looked at him, eyes reflecting his own churning emotions. "If it's the same aliens…"

"I know." And he did. He thought of Rush. What they would do to his people…anger screamed through him with no outlet, leaving him trembling. He caught Eli's expression, knew that he too realised what the implications would be; heard a groan as Scott came to the same conclusion. The young genius looked like he was going to cry.

"How do we find them?" _I'm sorry, kid…_

"We don't, Eli. We can't, not right now." _Not_ what anyone wanted to hear. He straightened. "The shuttle is drained, and _Destiny _is in no hurry to jump back into FTL. We don't know anything certain yet. Scott, search the ship. Let's look at what we can do. Brody?"

The other man came slowly from his daze.

"The ship. Right. Err." He coughed. "This is what we have. We've lost five new areas to space, though only three of those were previously accessible. That's excluding that whole unreachable section that was blown open by that last blast. These areas," he highlighted a number of sections, "are currently dead. Umm, inaccessible." He winced, whispered a 'sorry'. "We've put together a plan to get these areas up and running again in best possible time. There's some new hull damage, but nothing derogatory to the integrity of the ship. Here's the idea. Volker, Eli and I will start on the salvageable sections. When we've got enough to work with, Eli and I will begin work on the weapons. There's no point starting yet- some of the sections we need to work on are in the inaccessible spaces. Riley's going to concentrate on the shields with Doctor Park. They can actually get a lot done before they need to get into those areas.

"At the same time, Doctors Mendes, Slade and Franklin will each run a team to get problems in our areas fixed. Right now we're picking up fluctuations in air flow and power distribution right across the board. There're a good dozen power relays and interface junctions blown. Easy, but long winded. Temperature's playing up again. These compartments up against the hull are affected," he highlighted a half dozen segments. "People may need to spend a few nights someplace else.

"So, that's where we stand. Anything else?" He asked around. The others gathered shook their heads.

"First thing for one of the three, and I want it done as soon as possible. The lights in this main access corridor-" he gestured to the relevant area on the screen. "-are out. _Fix_ them." His tone left no room for argument, and he ignored the way they looked at each other. There was no way in hell that he was explaining, but he doubted they could even _begin_ to guess the reason for his insistence. "That aside- good plan. Let me know how many extra hands you need. Johansen and Scott take priority, but you can have as many others as you need. When the search is complete," they all tensed, "I'll send people over to you, and you can chose as you like. Free reign, gentlemen. Use it." He turned to Scott. "Walk with me Lieutenant."

Without waiting for confirmation, he turned and left. After a few steps the younger man fell in beside him, practically hopping with the desire to be elsewhere, hunting for his girl.

"Sir-" he raised a hand, and Scott fell silent, though Young could sense his impatience. He guided him into a room, shutting the door, and took a moment to gather himself. Not a conversation he wanted to be having right now.

"Lieutenant, I'll let you go in just a minute. First…on the shuttle. When I give an order, I expect it obeyed, without question. Do you understand? I don't care how excited you are, or how disappointed at the order, you do as ordered. Clear?"

The Lieutenants expression was incredulous, and he knew what Scott was thinking- _you want to do this now?_

"Sir? Surely-"

"Yes, we're doing this now, Lieutenant. Bad timing, I know. I need you here, focused. I need to know I can count on you. I need to know that next time we run into them, and we will, you won't go haring off on a vengeance mission. Orders are rarely debatable, Matthew, no matter how little you like them. You do as you're told, when you're told. Understand?"

Comprehension dawned, and Scott came to attention, staring over his commander's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir. Won't happen again." He snorted, amused. _Yeah, right._

"Aww, don't gimme that crap, Lieutenant. We both know it will. I don't want blind obedience, but I need to know that I can rely on you, regardless of the situation. And I don't want to be having this conversation again any time soon. Got it?" the other man nodded. "Good, now. Go do what you have to do."

"Sir, do you really think they might still be onboard?"

He hesitated, before turning to the impressionable young man. "I think there's a chance, just not a very big one. We can't rule it out until we're certain, though." The Lieutenants face fell; an ugly admission, but not unexpected.

"Go on." Scott straightened, and left.

Quiet settled. Everett sighed and rolled his shoulders, attempting to relieve the stiffness in his neck and failing miserably. The simple problems of yesterday felt like a lifetime ago. How he wished that he still believed something as trivial as a partial lockdown was the worst of his worries. Oh, he knew they had enemies out there, but the idea was remote, even taking Rush into account. It hadn't _really_ affected them. He sighed. Now…now the monster was knocking at the door, and their struggle for survival had just got a whole lot tougher. _How the hell do I lead this rag-tag group through this?_ His thoughts turned to the battle, and despite his melancholy he smiled. Actually, they had pulled together pretty well, without any training or experience. Maybe they stood a chance.

_Damn right._ He straightened, casting aside his doubts. Next time they ran into them, and he knew there_ would_ be a next time, they'd be better prepared. His thoughts were grim as he left.

They didn't have a choice.

-o-

The past several hours had been spent trying to be everywhere he was needed at once, and he was both mentally and physically exhausted. It was considerably quieter out now; the injured who could be released but couldn't work were back in their quarters resting. Practically all those who were still physically able had been seconded to various work gangs, be it repairs, clean up, salvage, medical, or search. Everyone who could be kept busy had been, and with luck exhaustion would override any lingering fear. He'd tracked down Sergeant Greer and given him much the same lecture as he had his Lieutenant, and had been pleased to see the contriteness in his bearing. Not that he expected it to last long, it never did. Attempts to speak to Rush had been futile- the man hadn't woken on time, and though TJ was disappointed she wasn't particularly surprised. She'd promised him she'd keep trying, and would call him as and when the Doctor woke. As for now…Scott's weary, monotone voice had called him over the radio only minutes ago, and he found himself speeding back to the Control Room for an update. Every step was heavy; he already knew what the result of the search was going to be, but he had to hear it to confirm it.

Soft voices could be heard as he approached, and he wasn't surprised when he entered the Room to find to find most of the main science team gathered, as well as Camille, Greer and James. Scott was perched on a stool, not engaging in any of the conversations going on around him, staring instead at the console with unfocused eyes; eyes that snapped up to him the moment he called out a quiet greeting. The pain reflected there hurt, and he could easily read the deep well of anger underneath.

"Nothing," he began without preamble. "We searched everywhere possible; even opened some of the depressurised sections for a quick look, but no sign. They-" his voice cracked. "They aren't on the ship, Sir."

Grief rose, sharp and crushing, and he closed his eyes. How he wished things were otherwise, for all their sakes. He caught the soft noise that escaped Eli; no one had wanted to hear the truth. All the while they could continue living a fantasy, there was hope, however fragile; that was now dashed, a fanciful dream shattered against unforgiving reality. What chance did they have of finding them? They were as children out here, helpless, stuck on a ship with a one track mind, no long range scanners, no useful communications, one shuttle that barely worked, primitive short distance Stargates, limited ammo... Baring a miracle, there was no hope. _And everyone thought our luck had changed when we found Rush. _Why did it feel like they'd been screwed by a bad deal? _Two for one…_just not the right offer. _Shit! _He slammed his hand against the wall. He wanted to strike back, to hurt them, to make them suffer like they had, like the race they had destroyed. Wanted to tear them limb from limb. Wanted to scream in defiance and give voice to his outrage. Scott's voice drew him back, and he shivered at his words.

"Rush may know where they've taken her." Feverish hope lit young eyes.

"Lieutenant," he warned, knowing he had to dissuade this course of thought; saw James shift slightly in apprehension.

"Sir, he-"

"No, Scott, we don't-" the younger man interrupted and slid from the stool, new life in his step as he approached.

"Colonel, he was _there_!" He pleaded. "If anyone-"

"Lieutenant!" He barked, praying he could draw the man back in line. "We still don't even know if they're the same aliens." _Damn it, son, take the hint, please. Don't make me ream you in. _

"Colonel, like Eli said- what are the chances?"

"Slim, yes, but without guarantee-" Scott put himself right in the Colonels' personal space, as though the force of his presence and conviction alone could convince the CO of a course of action the younger soldier didn't realise he was already committed to.

"Then _ask_ him!" _Right, this is too much._

"Stand down, Lieutenant! That's an order!" Young gripped his shoulders, shook him with gentle firmness. "I intend to! Believe me on that. But you need to step back, Matt. I do _not_ want you going to him. _I _will ask, not you. Got it?"

Matthew sagged, breath catching in a strangled sob as sheer despair hit him. Reality bled back in, and he realised they were the centre of rapt, horrified attention. Ignoring them a moment longer, he squeezed the Lieutenants' neck and moved his own head close; the words he spoke were soft yet clearly audible to all in the silent Room.

"We will do _everything_ we can, son, you have my word. I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Look at me." He shook him slightly, and Scott raised his head to meet the resolute gaze. His answer was barely a whisper.

"Yes, Sir." He straightened, and confirmed in a stronger voice. "Yes, Sir, I can."

"Good man." He felt drained, completely and utterly emotionally wrung out. He squeezed one last time, then let go. Turning to the room, he looked to Wray first, determined not to let them dwell on what had just occurred. With luck he could spare his young Lieutenant that scrutiny; he had to get things rolling.

"Anything else from medical?"

"Nothing you don't already know, I don't think. She's let another handful out back to their quarters, and when I left she was organising a proper rota for her team to go check on people. She's exhausted, though. You may want to order her to take a few hours rest."

He nodded, grateful for the opinion, and not particularly caring for once that she was putting her nose into the business of 'his' people.

"I'll do that. The ship?" He directed his next query to the scientists.

"Got the ceiling fixed," Eli quipped, forcing a smile. The faint laughter that echoed him was strained, and died quickly. It was Brody who continued.

"You saw that the lights in the main corridor were working?" He nodded. "Good. We got a _lot_ of work to do, Colonel. We've organised shifts ourselves so we can keep working round the clock. We've not gone back into FTL yet because some of the main interfaces are either disrupted or blown. Now that we've stabilised the ventilation systems, we're gonna concentrate our main effort there. We're sitting ducks out here." He manipulated the console, and the image changed, showing again the damaged areas.

"Fortunately, it's not all as bad as we thought. This compartment we lost?" He highlighted it. "We're already back in. The second one isn't far behind. The third we haven't started on yet. Franklin, Mendes and Slade have been making slow but steady progress inside; they'll have more hands tomorrow as more people recover enough to help. We," he gestured around the room, "have got four of the locked down areas reopened. They'll start there tomorrow, too. This is a list of what we know we need to do, and how and who is gonna fix it. It'll probably grow as we get into each area, but it's a start."

Young took from him a wad of crumpled, dirty paper, and scanned over the cramped, scrawled annotations written there. He drew it close, then held it further away. Sighed. _I'm gettin' old._

"Glasses. I'll take a look later. Thank you." He folded it and tucked it into his flight suit. "Before I head back down the infirmary, was there anything else?" Most of them shook their heads, but his attention was drawn to the scientist still sat at the display, eyes unmoving. There was something there. Before he had chance to ask, though, the man beat him to it.

"I thought you were going to ask him earlier?" Brody's tone was incredibly quiet, and he didn't look up from the schematic. Young paused, thinking, well aware that everyone was watching, whether they did so openly or not. Scott stirred beside him; evidently he'd completely forgotten. He picked his words carefully, not willing to destroy the sense of morale that had descended over the group, knowing that whatever he said would likely leave them disheartened at the least.

"He was out of it, and I couldn't wake him though I tried. TJ was keeping a close eye on him. I'm hoping by the time I get back there he'll be with us again."

He could feel the worry and dismay that filled the Room.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

James was watching him, gnawing on her lip, and he tip-toed over shards of glass.

"Apparently he…collapsed…as he was being moved. TJ's…concerned, but not overly so. I'll let everyone know." Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth, either. He wondered at the guilty twist to Scott's features, and then it occurred to him.

_No, son, he's really not up to playing a hundred and one questions right now._

"Anything else?" They all shook their heads. "Okay. Get some rest, people." He left.

_He better be awake._

- - - - o0o - - - -

_Nope, I'm not gonna tell y'all (see? I'm still using 'y'all' correctly!) who these aliens are. I know. But then, you'd bloody well hope that I do! I hope you like where I go with this. I'm going to loosely tie into the series. The major plot points are definitely going to happen. Hey! I've written out a plan for this fic at long last, only four chapters in. better late than never, I guess. It does mean that you should get an update in far less time than it took me to roll this one out._

_Oh, and no. Rush is _not_ a happy bunny. Apologies for him not being in this one much. Given how long it is, you'd have thought there'd have been more of him, so sorry. Don't worry. If the next chapter is this long, you'll have plenty of him :)_


	5. Hunted

Ok, who wants some Rush-whump? :-D I did say there were some serious psychological problems lurking in there.

Sorry for the long wait guys, no excuse. Well, none that'd appease you lot I'm guessing!

The good news is that the next chapter will be up in fairly short order (still please review this one, though- u make me all warm and happy on the inside when you do! Pretty please :) even you couple hundred or so lurkers! :-p) this chapter was half again as long, and I wasn't finished by a long shot, so I decided to bite the bullet and split it. Sniff. Still, you're getting 18 pages! The bad news…wait. There isn't any bad news. Does that make the bad news good news? Hmm…

I'm glad y'all liked the last chapter so much. I've tried to get a bit more action in this one, and there'll be a big chunk more in C6. Ah, and a couple of you were right about the aliens :)

Huge kudos and lots of chocolate to everyone who has reviewed- you rock! I'll reply to y'all in short order.

This chapter is for Lana, who made me realise that yes, it has nearly been a whole month since I last updated. Gulp. Really, I hadn't realised…

Hope u all enjoy! Usual disclaimers. Speech mis-grammer acceptable. Everything else isn't, so if you see that I've cocked up, do tell…

-o-0-o-0-o-0o-

_-Record-_

_I…I don't know what to say. So much has happened. I don't think I've ever been this tired. Or sad. Or happy. Or nervous. You know? A real rollercoaster, mom would've called it. I guess I know what she means, now. I hope she's doing okay…_

_Things are still so messed up. Scott's moody, the Colonel's moody. Greer's moody- though that's nothing new. I swear, he only smiles when he's polishing his gun. Everyone's miserable. Hell, _I'm_ miserable. Is this the way it's gonna be? Chased by murderous aliens across the rest of the galaxy? Hey, at least we're back in FTL. I guess._

_The ship's not looking too good, and the only person who really knows what he's doing won't wake up. I'd almost believe he's Her favourite. Ya know, the ships. Weird, huh? I know, it's just coz he's so much better at this than the rest of us. As he likes to point out. Well, he would, if he were awake. I kinda miss him. Ish. Don't know what I'm gonna say to him, though. What's the betting he already knows everything, anyway?_

_I know the Colonel's not telling us everything about him, too. He was meant to go see him, then came back all broody and didn't say anything. Nor's TJ. She won't let anyone see him. I'm about ready to sneak into the infirmary, get some answers myself. Maybe. Or not. She's moody too._

_Hah, never thought I'd say that. She's real tired. I guess it's not her fault._

_Heh. I guess I know what to say after all. I wonder if it'll make any sense tomorrow. I really am tired…_

_-File Saved-_

_._

_._

-o-0-o-

The infirmary was considerably quieter, though TJ was still on her feet, moving slowly between patients. Much of the urgency had gone from her posture, and now she seemed simply tired, though still determined to do her job. He took a moment to study her, allowing the sight of the medic to calm him before approaching her.

"Hey." The Colonel kept his voice quiet determined to neither disturb the few remaining patients, nor startle the weary woman. She turned, a faint smile playing over her lips.

"Hey, you." She straightened, obviously surprised at herself. "Err, Sir." She relaxed when he chuckled softly. Honestly, he was pleased that she could be so at ease around him- it had been a long time since that had last happened, and such moments were preciously rare and sorely missed.

"Quiet in here. How's things?" She brightened.

"Not bad, actually. There've been no more fatalities. Most people I've released to their quarters, there's only these few that I want to keep an eye on." She led him to her workstation and rooted around till she found a scrawled list. Turning, the Lieutenant handed it to him.

"Mostly bruises, cuts, lacerations, scrapes and grazes and a few broken bones, like I'd hoped. Some two dozen with varying levels of concussion, three of which I've kept here. Sarah Peters, one of the civilians, had her ankle crushed by a door failure. I've done what I can, stitched the muscle and skin layers, pinned the bone as best I can and restored the blood-flow, but I expect she'll always walk with a limp. There's definitely nerve damage there, but until I get the scanner back online I won't know how bad. Airman Burge was quite badly injured." Her expression was sorrowful as she gestured to one of the far beds. "Impaled on broken metal trying to stop someone else falling on it. I expect him to pull through, but he'll be out of action for a while. We should be able to update the original report tomorrow."

The medic was referring to Wray's report from earlier, and he nodded his understanding before folding the sheet of paper to slip into his flight suit along side the one Brody had given him. She raised an eyebrow.

"My glasses are in my quarters." He explained, and then sighed, turning away slightly. He felt suddenly awkward, though none of his earlier resolve was diminished; rather he felt somewhat guilty, knowing what he wanted would only cause her more stress.

"I need to speak to him." Her expression hardened, instantly knowing who 'he' was, and he hurried on. He would override her if he had to, though he would rather have her understanding. "Chloe and Dunning are definitely gone, Lieutenant, taken, and he is our only link to them. If there _is_ something we can do, TJ, we only have a short window, and it's closing all the time."

"Colonel…" She was hurting, he knew, and it grieved him to be the cause of it. "Look at the way he reacted to the attack. Do you honestly think your questioning him about them will be helpful? Do you think it'll do him any good? Or you?"

He paused, determined to give her concerns genuine thought; he had avoided thinking directly about the man and what he had been through for too long- since his return, actually, and in truth it was getting harder to justify his ignoring the proverbial 'elephant in the room'. He had barely any information about what they had done to him- snippets that TJ had dropped here and there, oblique references she had made, but he wasn't blind, and he certainly wasn't stupid. It was bad, alright; hence his concern for the two missing crew. He couldn't leave them to suffer the same fate, not if there was anything he could do. _Would I have done differently? If I had known about them, would I have left him there?_

_Or would you just have shot him? Would have been easier…_ A quiet voice whispered, poison in his ear.

He shuddered, pushing it firmly away, yet was unable to escape it fully. Moving, he circled one of the empty beds before perching on the edge, and attempted to turn his mind back to the issue. He was too restless to stay, however, and stood again; after a moments' hesitation he headed towards the quarantine rooms. Again the medic followed, silently, without yesterday's urgency, and his entrance this time was considerably quieter. Perhaps seeing the Doctor would help straighten out his thoughts. Rush literally hadn't moved, and Young wondered with a sudden flash exactly _how much_ the medic was doing for him, squirming slightly at the thought. Shaking it off he moved forward, crouching down to peer into the bloodless face with its bruised, hollowed eyes. _Can I ask it of him? What's the chance I'll do even more damage? _His stomach twisted._ If I hadn't left him there, he wouldn't be in this state._

_No, but he'd still be a thorn in your side, and a bigger one, knowing what he could get away with…_

True. There was no way in hell that he was ever giving Rush any sort of hold over him, and allowing his actions in respect of the sidearm to go unpunished would have translated to 'carte blanch' where Rush was concerned. Trying to keep him in line was a daily effort in frustration at the best of time; the scientist believing that he could get away with framing the Colonel for murder would have been like giving a kid the keys to the candy shop. He'd have been unstoppable, and _wouldn't_ have stopped until Young's power base had been completely eroded.

_Irrelevant. That wasn't punishment, it was attempted murder._ His mind shied away from that admission_. I should have handled it a hell of a lot better. _

_You didn't. Get over it…_

Absently, the Colonel reached out and pushed a clump of limp hair aside, exposing the parallel gouges arcing back along the side of his head that the medic had cleaned and stitched. Never mind the physical mess, after only a few days she was deeply concerned about his mental state and she was right; quizzing him, regardless of the circumstances, might do him more harm. _Two for one. I have to try, surely. Would I do differently if it weren't him?_ He rubbed his eyes, thinking, and leant back onto his haunches. Really, he was too tired for this.

"I think we're only just scratching the surface," came a quiet, weary voice, and he twisted his neck to look up at her. "I doubt this will be the last time he reacts that way, and knowing him not only will he not go to anyone for help, but he'll keep everything inside until he snaps. If it's anything like how he reacted yesterday, it'll be awful."

_Yeah, and he's not exactly the most stable man at the best of times._ He watched as she sank down the wall with a groan, stretching her legs out before her, clasping slender hands over her abdomen, and Young turned his attention back to the man on the bed. It was difficult separating his dislike for the Doctor from his reasoning process; he was willing to admit that the bitterness between them frequently clouded his judgement. _No shit._ He'd never understood O'Neill's tolerance, though there was a rumour that they'd known each other for a while, certainly long before the Icarus project was confirmed. Really, he'd never had believed that the two of them could have walked in the same sphere long enough to form _any_ sort of friendship. They were just too…different. He doubted Rush would appreciate the General's sense of humour, and O'Neill wasn't the sort of person to deal with someone bearing Rush's caustic, manipulative personality. And yet… _I doubt I'll ever understand._

_You don't want to._

Okay, that was getting annoying. _When did I start talking _back_ to myself? _Refusing to let that hereforeto unknown pessimistic part of his nature win, he wilfully ignored it, shutting that piece of his mind away, and brought his train of thought back on track. _Difficult, but not impossible_, he reflected. _If it were Greer, would I be considering it? If it were Scott?_ He lowered his head, unfocused gaze levelled somewhere beyond the floor. _That's the question, isn't it._ Would he, if it were someone he cared about, or even just someone he liked, be contemplating the same? _If it weren't Rush… I'd like to think that I would, even knowing I'd be likely to hurt them. _Unfortunately the fact that it _was_ Rush made it so much easier. _Nothing to lose. We hate each other anyway._ _And as for me…_he'd already determined that he'd never forgive himself, and knew Rush definitely never would, therefore what did his own feelings matter? He'd bear the responsibility if it meant getting those two back. _I'll just add it to the guilt already stacking up._

He hadn't changed his mind.

Spinning slowly on his heels to look at her, he could read in the sadness of her gaze that she knew it too. _I had to try, _the pained smile she bore seemed to say. He wished he could tell her how much he understood.

"Wait," she ordered, levering herself to her feet. "I want to get my kit, first." He nodded, though she didn't see it- she had already left. Honestly, he didn't want her in here- it wasn't in her nature to hurt people, and he didn't want her to have to deal with doing so. He stood, moved to collect the pad he'd left there hours ago. Brushing his thumb across the screen brought it back to life, and he stared at the image captured there; the anger began to build again, deep and ventless, and he was grateful when she returned, her mere presence able to blunt the rage inside. Crossing back to the bed, he gently shuffled TJ away from the side before she could reach for the Doctor; she huffed, but complied, and he thought he could detect a faint curve to her lips. Smiling himself, he shifted his attention to the man laying there; sobering the instant he rested his hand upon the bandaged shoulder, careful to avoid the dark stains indicating slowly healing wounds (even knowing he was going to cause the man pain, he had no intention of making things worse if he could possibly avoid it) and he kept his voice soft as he called the other man's name, squeezing gently. No response. With a sigh, he rested one hand firmly upon the scientists' head to keep him steady, and shook him slightly with the other, raising his voice as he did so.

The response was immediate, electric, and completely beyond Everett's control.

A thin arm jerked up in an attempt to dislodge the hands on him, and Rush hauled himself backwards with a wordless snarl. The Colonel barely had time to grab the injured man before he fell off the other side of the bed; the wrong thing to do, he would admit later, when his brain had had chance to catch up, but in that split second he reacted on instinct, and his instinct was to keep Rush from injuring himself further. _Stupid! _Dark eyes snapped open; there was no recognition there, only sheer unadulterated terror and he lashed out with an inarticulate cry, desperate to get away from the strong hands pinning him down. The Colonel was too stunned by the suddenness of it all to do anything productive- his grip reflexively tightened on the flailing man, and all hell broke lose. A hysterical shriek made him wince, and he ducked uncoordinated blows as Rush ineffectively fought back; a distant, oddly calm part of his mind decided that the scientist was unable to do him any real harm, and he shifted his grip, moving closer in a desperate attempt to gain a better purchase on the writhing figure. _Bad idea on top of bad idea. Idiot…_the problem being now that he was committed, he couldn't simply let go.

"Goddamnit, Rush, _stop!_" He cried, and was vaguely aware of TJ trying to calm him too, with an equal lack of success. Another wrench and Rush almost broke free; Young hauled him forward then, off the bed and onto the floor in a tumble of limbs and sheets and there he held him, barely, and he knew then why James had had such trouble. An elbow caught his ribs; nails raked down his neck in a stinging burn and he twisted his head away from the other man who struggled with near animalistic violence.

"Keep him there!" And TJ was in front of him, lunging for an arm. Catching his right, she pulled it straight, the fight to keep hold of him clear in the tightness of her body and the strain on her face. Indecipherable words screamed in terror and hate assailed them, and gritting her teeth the medic pressed the hypo- to the inner crook of his elbow, releasing a sedative into his bloodstream. A frightened wail tore from the other man at the terrible intrusion –_how many times before?-_ and he renewed his feverish efforts to escape, jerking his arm free and lashing out with it. Young grunted as a fist made contact with his jaw.

The frantic movements lessened as he battled weakly against both the man that held him and the drugs that gradually rendered him powerless, and eventually he slumped, air catching in his throat in desperate sobs as he fought to breathe; carefully Everett moved an arm to lay fingers against the throbbing pulse just behind his jaw, following Rush when he tried to break the contact- it was erratic, shallow and showing no sign of returning to normal as he continued to struggle pathetically, scarcely able to draw breath or move limbs in any sort of concerted manner yet determined to fight them all the way. It was a shock when Rush went limp, all the fight going out of him as he fell into unconsciousness, and the sudden weight dragged them down to the floor. The universe froze in the aftermath as everything simply _stopped_, silence crowding in with a deafening roar. They hung suspended between heartbeats, numb, unable to comprehend the fury that had been wrought in that tiny room, and It was an effort to force his muscles to relax and let go; untangling himself, he carefully lowered the scientist to the floor, resting a moment with his head bowed before leaning back and drawing a deep breath, trying to calm the nausea roiling through him. _She warned me._

Blood pounded through his ears. He could feel his heart thumping in his heaving chest, racing, audible over his own laboured breathing, and he only realised he was physically _shaking_ when he reached up to wipe the sweat from his face with a hand that trembled. This wasn't something he would ever forget, and he knew it would haunt him for a good long while. _God…_

To her credit (and his gratitude) TJ didn't say 'I told you so'- in truth, she was as shocked as he, for no one could have predicted this explosion. They sat there a long time, too numb to move, only the sound of rasping gasps breaking the silence. In time the medic stirred and crawled across to them. Pausing, she looked down at the crumpled form between them, and with a shiver arched up to the Colonel, gently tilting his head to the side and ghosting light fingers over the scratches running down his neck; he'd forgotten about those.

"Not bleeding," she murmured softly, voice unbearably loud in the suffocating stillness. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and he felt her trace the slight ache on his jaw, shaking his head slightly when she queried whether it hurt. No real damage, then. Reaching up he laid his palms along the curves of her jaw, thumbs on her cheeks and fingers curling round the back of her neck, and he pulled her close, resting their foreheads together. They stayed there a long while, each seeking solace in the other's company, a semblance of peace to quell the horror of the last ten minutes. It felt so much longer than that, though it was probably even less, an eternity stretched and compressed in equal measure. It ended, as all things must, and she pulled away, regret flitting fleetingly over her features, though he couldn't decide what that regret was _for_, and she turned her attention at last to the man on the floor.

He could see it in her face- _not again._ She didn't want to have to deal with this again, but she had no choice, and he felt a tug of sympathy for her, for both of them, in truth. Kneeling fully, she began the lengthy task of checking him over, sighing as she pulled destroyed splints off of misshapen fingers, grimacing as she touched the unnatural bends. Young prayed hopelessly that this'd be the last time she had to reset those fingers. The sickening sound of bone scraping against bone echoed in the quiet and his stomach rebelled, bile rising in his throat. He jumped when she spoke.

"Hold here."

He blinked, drawn back, and focused his gaze on her hands, before snapping his head up to look at her, incredulous. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that. I can't do it one handed. Make sure you get a firm grip."

Swallowing hard, he did as instructed, laying his hands over hers and slipping his fingers in to take her place as she slowly moved away. He'd never known anything like it; afraid to do more damage, he kept his hold light, and felt the instant pull of bone beneath his touch as it tried to slide away from its' current position. The colour drained from his face and he immediately tightened his grasp, shaking, terrified as he was of over-compensating. He blinked sweat from her eyes. _I've never really given her enough credit, have I?_ TJ was back, then, not a moment too soon; she checked the bone, instructed him to shift his grip slightly, pull a little as she straightened the slip he had inadvertently caused, and arranged the splints again, binding them with swift, confident moves before moving on to the second finger and starting over. It didn't take her long, she'd had far too much practice, and he was relieved beyond measure when she tied down the last bandage on his thumb.

"I wish I could cast them," she sighed, dragging her kit towards her and pulling on blue gloves she dug out of it. A roll of instruments followed, as did a dozen bandages and small packets, as well as two bottles. "I know it's rare for fingers, but it'd probably be a lot safer."

He could only nod and watch as she touched gently the gash along his jaw (only two stitches split), before tilting his head, lifting enough to allow her to run questing fingers, unseen, over what she knew to be flayed scalp. She heaved another sigh, and some of the worry lifted from her brow, and she moved down to his right shoulder.

The stain on the white cloth was definitely larger than before. _No surprise. _Unsheathing scissors, she passed them to him with the order to cut it off, and he quickly did so, pulling strips of material away. Wordlessly passing him a pair of gloves, the Colonel complied with her expectations and struggled into them, bitter amusement flaring briefly- she made it look so easy. TJ lifted the dressing; the gouges curved around the shoulder bled sluggishly, and she set to work, handing him tweezers and smaller scissors with instructions to begin removing the ruptured stitches while she threaded a new length of thread through a fine needle, quickly disinfecting the wounds when he'd finished before beginning the arduous task of re-stitching. He turned away, fighting down the urge to retch.

_She knew it wouldn't work._ Guilt flared, hot and vicious. _She knew, and she gave me the chance to choose differently. _He couldn't have, even though they were still no closer to finding Armstrong and Dunning. If he had known…_but I didn't, neither of us did. Not like this… _His eyes found the pad, upside down some distance from them, and anger stirred again, and despair. This couldn't happen again, not like this- Rush wouldn't be able to cope, even if TJ were to agree, which he knew she wouldn't, and accepting that defeat crushed him. That was it, bar a miracle, _and God alone knows there've been too few of those_, they were lost, irretrievable. _Rush made it out._ True, but look at the price. _I can only hope that I can ask him when he's in his right mind again. _He glanced down at the figure oblivious on the floor, so deeply unconscious the medic didn't need to use painkillers to dull the work she was doing. Young closed his eyes, but could still see the steady rhythm of the needle punching through flesh in the darkness, blood oozing across pale skin. He looked back at the wall, then frowned, turning to her.

"Pardon?"

She sighed. "I need you to wipe," she pointed, "Grab a dressing." He did so, blotting away the red liquid to enable her to see, and she smiled a little. _Nice to know I'm doing something right. _ Three neat rows of stitches later, and the Colonel rather thought he was getting the hang of this. He felt absurdly proud that he was able to watch without feeling queasy. It was bizarre- he'd watched people he knew and cared about bleed to death before his eyes from terrible wounds and felt none of the nausea he felt now. _Perhaps the difference is being more concentrated on the person and the dying, rather than the wounds and the healing. Besides, there's something truly awful about watching someone pull a line of thread through living flesh._

That was true, and he'd done his _own _stitches in the past.

She passed him the needle, and began running her hands over emaciated limbs checking for damage, careful pressure along his ribs was met with a softly breathed 'good', and she spent time carefully examining the soles of his feet- Young blinked, realising the scientist had probably been without shoes for as long as he'd been a prisoner. Trekking across several planets had probably done a fair amount of ill. He hesitated as something caught his eye.

"His leg's bleeding."

"I know." Her voice sounded odd, and he frowned, remembering then their previous conversation, when she hadn't been able to find the words, and wondered how serious it could possibly be given that the man had walked not only to the planet where they found him, but from there to _Destiny_ practically under his own steam. He didn't speak, however, simple waited, and was rewarded when she finished with his feet and turned to the darkening bandages, ignoring the proffered scissors and beginning the task of unwinding them. _Keeping them?_ It kinda made sense, they didn't have a whole lot of spare bandages, and she'd probably gone through a fair few on him already. Still…yuck, as Eli might say.

The smell made him wrinkle his nose. Looking at the wound she exposed, the Colonel understood her earlier reticence; he knew that sort of damage, had seen it before- truly dangerous only if it was deep enough to cause significant blood loss, hit an artery, or was left untreated and then became infected, a plasma burn was agony itself and required different care to a normal or chemical burn, and he was glad it appeared to be fairly shallow, though wide spread and black beneath the salve she carefully scraped off. _More than a glancing blast._ Something struck him then, a blow to the gut and he hissed- it had been untended properly for a week.

'_His leg…I'm doing what I can…'_

If she succeeded, it'd heal well enough that he could walk again. If she failed, however, he'd lose the leg and most likely his life.

"TJ…"

"I know," she repeated. "Actually, it's healing better than I'd expected when I first saw it, possibly the _only_ benefit of…whatever it is still running through his system. I'm praying that by the time that's completely… purged, it'll be far enough along that it can heal on its' own."

He frowned at the peculiar hesitance over 'whatever it is' and the unusual cadence to her words, but decided to leave it. She handed him the larger bottle, instructing him to sluice the wound, and then pushed herself to her feet, stripping the gloves off as she went and vanished. He proceeded, washing the last traces of the gel away, using a wad of pads to ensure it was clean then dry it. The medic returned with fresh sheets and a jar which she put on the floor.

"I need him on the bed," and so saying between them they carefully lifted the heavily inert figure, manoeuvring him onto the bed and into a comfortable position, and Young found his knees were still shaking slightly- the shock hadn't completely worn off. Settled, TJ unscrewed the jar and pulled new gloves on - from it she scooped out a handful of the same gel which they'd just removed, and sparsely coated the wound before loosely covering it, waving off the offered dressing.

"It needs to breathe for a while. See where it's weeping?" _d'rather not, thanks._ "I want that to stop before I cover it completely again. Help me." They divested themselves of their gloves, and together pulled the new sheets over the scientist, leaving the leg protruding. Cleaning up took minutes, and then they were outside in the fresh brightness of the infirmary, and able to breathe again, and relax, _and I think I wanna throw up…_

"Let's not do that again?"

"Not a chance."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I know you'd hoped for better…"

He echoed the sound. "Yeah…" There would be time to think properly, to take it all in, he knew, when the shock had worn off, but for now…he had work to do. There would be no help from Rush, not until it were most likely too late to do anything, anyway. He didn't much fancy passing on the bad news, but knew there wasn't a choice. _Another_ failure. His temper boiled over.

"_Fuck!"_

He slammed a fist into the bulkhead, seething. _Was it too much to ask for one pissing bit of good fortune? For Christ sake!_

"Everett!" He turned to her, and she rocked from the thunder in his gaze, but held firm, hands planted on her hips. "Injuring yourself is _not_ going to help. I want you to go rest- no, _don't _argue. I know you've been on your feet since before this all started. You're exhausted, short tempered, and no doubt you haven't eaten properly, either."

"Lieutenant." _Damn it woman, not an option. What sort of suggestion was that? _She ignored his tone.

"I'm serious, Colonel. You're no good to anyone if you can't think straight." The medic held her ground, and he bit back a growl.

"Fine. Keep an eye on him." Then he hurried out before she had chance to say any more. The Colonel could feel her worried gaze on him as he left, and he didn't begrudge her the concern- _I didn't exactly say when… _

Stopping several turns from the infirmary, he took a moment to lean against the wall and close his eyes. _She's not wrong, you know._ Truly, he was exhausted, wasn't entirely sure how he was still going. The half light and night-silence of the ship didn't help- it lulled both body and mind, dulling the senses. He was too wired, though, to give in to the urges of the body, and besides, he knew that if he closed his eyes for too long scenes of the recent past would replay themselves in his mind. He squared his shoulders. _Far too much to do._ Something called him, though, and he headed in a different direction. Unsurprisingly, the observation deck was empty. Moving to the shielding that separated him from the vacuum beyond, he looked down upon the planet and felt his stomach clench. Even now, even from here, he could see it still burning, a terrible bleeding stain upon the surface. _I wonder if any survived…_

From what he'd seen on the Kino, the attacking fleet had been pretty thorough and he doubted there were many buildings left standing. _Is it the only city down there? Were they the only ones of their race? _The thought was near unimaginable, and grotesquely unfair. An entire species wiped from existence. _Genocide…_He prayed there were those who had escaped. It was too much, on top of everything they were going through, and he straightened, intending to leave and forget for a while the horror that lingered here.

"Oh!"

He turned, stared at the young woman standing there. She hovered uncertainly, clutching a mug to her chest. He didn't know her, though he thought he'd seen her before.

"I didn't think anyone would be here," she murmured and cautiously approached. There was nothing memorable about her, she was fairly ordinary; non-descript features, plain brown hair. Neither tall nor short, she was the sort of person who would be lost in a crowd. He smiled slightly, attempting to reassure her.

"Don't worry, I was just leaving."

As he moved to walk past her, she held the mug out.

"Here, I think you need this more than I do."

The Colonel chuckled, and accepted it with a grin.

"I look that bad?" When her eyes widened, he hurried to reassure her. "I'm kidding, really. Thanks for the tea, it's very thoughtful of you."

Still didn't taste any better, mind. He sipped it thoughtfully as he made his way to his Control Room. It was doubtful there was any caffeine in it, but TJ had said it contained all sorts of good stuff- Greer's words, not hers. The man hadn't sounded like he'd believed what he was saying though, and Young couldn't recall having seen his Sergeant drink it, ever. He wasn't missing much.

A sudden shiver ran through the ship, sending him sprinting towards the Control Room, dropping the mug as he went. All weariness gone, panic snapping at his heels, he rounded the last corner as space _stretched,_ and _Destiny_ dropped into FTL. The Colonel staggered to a halt and sagged in painful relief, clinging to the wall; the air lodged in his throat, choking him, and it was several minutes before he could walk again without weakened knees knocking together. The adrenaline fled, leaving him with muscle cramps and a headache which was exacerbated by the whooping coming from the AppleCore. One hand resting on the doorframe, he took a moment to study those gathered there; they were all of them exultant. A smile was drawn from him as he watched Eli's antics- the younger man had enveloped Brody, who was obviously the hero of the hour, in an enormous bear hug and spun him round. One of the scientists he didn't know particularly well, Mendes, was spinning on the rotating stool while Lisa clung to Volker, and all of them were grinning, laughing, cheering each other on.

"What in the world?"

"We're back in FTL, Miss Wray, and a damn sight sooner than we expected. I think they're allowed to be pleased." The breathless woman who had appeared at his shoulder, no doubt for the same reason he'd come running, stiffened, but right then he couldn't give a damn about her sensibilities. Stepping into the room he basked in the joy, allowed it to lift spirits that had been sorely flagging.

"Excellent work, people. Well done. What happened to the schedule?" _And the fact that I ordered you to rest? _But he was smiling, no sting in his words, and they turned their happiness upon him.

"It was almost by accident, really," Brody replied. "We'd reclaimed all the compartments, Marie," he nodded at Mendes- _Marie Mendes? There's a name. Ah, married,_ he noticed the ring on her finger, "actually got us back into C3- compartment three that is- she and Riley dug out the damaged junctions and interfaces, then patched across the burnt out relays. Then from here I was able to reroute power. Took a few tries, but wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it'd be. Actually, I round the right path purely by accident- I hit the wrong sequence! It's funny, it's almost like _Destiny wanted_ to jump back. We didn't have chance to override, not that we'd have wanted to."

Eli jumped in. "Actually, the ship possibly did. Maybe it's standard procedure to jump away from danger, and it's been wanting to ever since the attack? Cool, huh? Might come in handy in future."

_Yes, it might_.

"You should probably make an announcement, Colonel. It'll cheer a lot of people up." He smiled at the scientist.

"After you, Mr. Brody. This is your work, after all." The scientist smiled, obviously pleased, and moved to the intercom. Young barely listened as the other man spoke, choosing instead to study the weary, triumphant faces around him. There was most definitely an undercurrent of sorrow in the room, but they all took the moment to celebrate and forget their troubles for a short while; there'd be time enough for misery later. Slowly the wildness faded, though the good cheer lingered as they carried on working, and the Colonel hovered for a while. Deciding to be productive, he wandered to the mess, grabbed refreshments enough for the science team and after a few minutes chatting with Becker he meandered back, undisturbed, to distribute food and drink. They accepted gratefully, and Young tucked himself out the way to watch them work, trying to ignore the weariness creeping up on him again; it didn't help that _they_ were yawning and rubbing their eyes.

He must have dozed, standing up of all things, because an unexpected voice at his side made him just, cursing stiff muscles and the returned headache.

"Lieutenant…" he sighed. Her grin, though tired, was impish.

"When I said 'go rest', this isn't what I had in mind, you know. Same applies to everyone," she raised her voice. "All of you need sleep, you all look ready to drop. I'd suggest getting a shift system up and running, guys." It wasn't a request, and her tone left no room for arguing.

"Umm, TJ?" They all turned to Eli. "You too!"

She smiled. "Yeah, me too." It didn't take long to work out a quick rota. They'd tweak it tomorrow. Brody and Mendes stayed for the first shift; the medic and Young followed the others shortly after. She halted him in the corridor, her hand gentle on his arm.

"Please go and rest? You need it, Everett, really. I'm worried about you…" He sighed.

"I will, I promise." He'd calmed down a lot, was too tired to still be truly angry, and with the anger gone, taking with it the illusion of strength, the last thirty two hours weighed heavily upon him

"Thank you. Six hours?"

He snorted. "Only if you do." They stood there, close, looking at each other. Maybe it was the fuzziness blanketing his mind, but right then he wanted nothing so much as to reach out and touch her, ghost his fingers over her cheek, wipe the dirt from her skin, and it was such an effort to keep himself from doing so. His fingers twitched, and he shivered. It was the medic who broke the silence.

"Goodnight, then,"

"Yes, goodnight." He forced himself to turn away. It may just have been his imagination, but he thought he detected a slight question in her tone, as though her words bore a hidden meaning. He refused to dwell on it. _I'm tired, nothing more._ No way was he going to say something that would only make him feel stupid tomorrow. Didn't mean he didn't want to turn back, though.

Everett realised as he made his slow way through the ship that no one had asked him about Rush. _Amusing that they'd forgotten_. He rubbed his eyes.

Depressing the door button, he entered; the lights flickered on as he did so, and he remembered briefly those early days when they'd had nearly no power. _How quickly we take things for granted_. Massaging the bridge of his nose, wishing he could stave off the headache creeping up on him, he set the mug aside, pulled off his boots and stripped off his flight suit, laying it over the sofa back. With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed, and exhaustion washed painfully over him. He wouldn't recall when he awoke the precise moment when he lay down and pulled the sheets up. Auto pilot took over, and he was instantly asleep.

-o-0-o-

Waking was hard, not least of all for the headache that had not only lingered, but worsened. He didn't feel rested, even though his watch showed eight hours had passed. Clenching his teeth he sat up, grimacing as weary muscles protested, and he wished he could just lay there. _Too much to do._ Dressing was a chore, and he was half tempted to leave his laces undone. _Come on, man, set an example._ Still, the head rush upon sitting up made him wish he'd cheated. The Colonel finger combed his hair on the way out, didn't bother with shaving, and made his way to the mess. There were more people about now, but still not as many as he'd have expected. _Guess yesterday was exhausting for everyone._

"Sir," he accepted the bowl.

"Thanks, Becker." No one waved him over, and he really wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone, so he quickly left; everyone he encountered in the corridors bore the same half numb half weary expression, and no one made the effort to talk. The events of yesterday had had chance to set in, and the crew was trying to process the shock. _Damn, civilians shouldn't have to cope with this, they're not equipped for it._ He'd have to ask TJ to keep an eye out, something else to add to her work load.

The Gang was already gathered when he arrived, but didn't appear to have been there for long. Eli gave him a tired wave and a soft 'hey'; the others turned and gestured in acknowledgement. The run down was quick; much the same as it had been yesterday but without the panic. Before he could make an exit, content to leave things in their hands, Eli spoke.

"So, I've been thinking. What if…what if the reason Destiny stopped there, here, I mean, wasn't for resources? What if…well, what if it was to meet them? The race down there? Say hello, you know? Meet the neighbours?"

Breakfast lay heavy in his stomach. That _hadn't _occurred to him. Looking round, he realised the same applied to everyone else; their expressions were bleak, hollow, pained by the knowledge that an entire species was most likely dead, and they'd witnessed the massacre. What would they have been like? Were they even friendly? Would they have traded? Did they have the same social and familial structures that humans had? How many…

A thought struck him that he didn't voice, _what if we were meant to help?_ It was a blow that left him reeling.

"Damn, Eli. No I hadn't considered that. Shit…" he leaned on the console, watched Lisa surreptitiously wipe her eyes. He knew how she felt; they all shared the same grief. He straightened.

"Let me know if you need anything." At their assent, he quickly left, not wanting to dwell to long on such possibilities, and made his way to the infirmary. TJ greeted him with a smile; at least she looked rested. At her frown, he realised he still looked like crap.

"I promise I slept," he joked. Her only answer was a speculative 'hmmm'

"The report I gave you-"

"Damn!" She raised an eyebrow.

"I take it you've not read it?" Hell, he couldn't even remember what he'd _done_ with it.

"Sorry, some uppity medic ordered me to bed." TJ rolled her eyes.

"Well, good for her." She continued with a smile, "It can wait, don't worry. If you can get it read soon, though, we can start planning work details and such like."

"I'll go read it now." He hesitated. "Any change?"

She sighed. "Nothing, I'm afraid. I'll let you know."

"Okay. Listen, if he wakes up…don't try and deal with him on your own, okay? _Call._" He stressed the word, praying she would know how important it was that she understood. She couldn't possibly cope with him on her own, and the thought of the medic being hurt…

"Don't worry, I won't." He studied her face before nodding, believing her. He just hoped her instinct too protect wouldn't overcome common sense. Not wanting her to realise how relieved he was, he turned and began walking away, calling over his shoulder,

"Good. I'll be back soon." Massaging his temples as he went, he wondered whether he should ask her for some of those magic leaves. _Good grief, Everett, it's a headache. Get over it._ Slipping through the quieter corridors, he made his way back to his quarters; a quick scan of the room and he saw the reports on the floor by the sofa where they'd obviously fallen from his clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief and picked both up, before finding his glasses and settling down on the soft cushions. It was a long read.

He was just coming to the end of Brody's somewhat scrawled handwriting, when the ship shuddered, dropping out of FTL. Hauling himself across the seat he lunged for the radio.

"Report!"

'_Err..'_

He fumed silently. _I swear, next person who utters that damn word is gonna get a dictionary thrown at them!_

'_A planet, Colonel- Gate's dialling.'_

"Thank you, Eli. I'll be there-"

The ship shuddered.

'_They're back! They just dropped out! How the hell did they find us?' _

"Shit!" He was off the sofa and heading for the door as another shudder ran through the ship and the lights flickered. _Not again, please…_ He spoke again to the frightened younger man as he slapped the door release, heading out.

"Hang tight, Eli. Return fire. Lieu-" The ship jolted and he fell, dropping the radio and hitting the floor, hard. Panic surged through him as he struggled briefly for air, before dragging himself to his knees. The lights went again; in the distance he could hear frightened voices. Ignoring the acrid smell of burning, he scrambled for the radio, finding it just as the lights came back. Sparks shot overhead. Eli's voice was crying out for him, the tone desperate, pleading, and he had to wait for the mathematician to disconnect before he could speak again. He had a taste himself right then of how frightening it was to be so out of control, dependant on those in the Control Room to function without his presence, and felt incredible empathy for all those who huddled in their quarters, helpless and praying, relying on others to save them. Gritting his teeth, he used the bulkhead to pull himself upright, clinging to the metal walls. He risked breaking into a run, and then staggered across the corridor as another blast struck _Destiny_, sending him into the far wall where he sagged, fighting to remain standing. _Stupid! _Before he could get much further, though, reality stretched, and they were back in FTL.

The world fell into loud silence and he hung there, stunned. Gradually the ringing in his ears cleared, and he could make out the soft, shocked weeping of terrified civilian. He called softly into the radio.

"Eli…"

'_Yeah…umm, we're back in FTL. But you already know that. Looks like we were right, an emergency jump. Gate shut itself down. I don't think we took much damage, Brody's just checking.'_

A hand grabbed his arm and he jumped, whirling instantly to a threat that turned out to be a tearful young woman.

"Thanks, Eli." holstering the radio, he took her shoulders gently. "It's okay, they're gone. Okay?" She nodded, plucking absently at his sleeves, wide eyed and desperate. People were everywhere, civilians and military alike, all shell shocked, though his people could function through it. He carefully disentangling himself and passed her over to an Airman, and she clutched at him. It was really too much for these people, too soon. The lights hissed, smoking, and she whimpered; fearful voices cried out in hushed tones, not daring to be too loud. He spoke to the military personnel.

"Spread out. See to people- injuries to the infirmary, keep everyone calm, same as before." He nodded at various 'Sir's' and moved away. Reaching the Control Room was slow going, but he expected that; everywhere people needed reassurance, a gentle touch here, a quiet word there. Like last time, they reached out to him, and as before he responded as best as he was able, but dealing with these people like this was draining, and he was shamefully grateful to be able to slip into the relative quiet of the Control Room. Pushing the pain in his shoulder aside he addressed the room, making an effort to keep his voice calm. They were all frightened enough without him adding to it.

"Anyone?"

"We don't really know anything, not yet. Well, I can tell you we received no real damage, but as to how they found us? Not a clue. We'll keep at it."

He nodded at Brody, wondering fleetingly when the man had become spokesperson for those gathered in Rush's absence. Each face reflected varying levels of fear, but he was pleased to see them working through it- Eli in particular was soldiering through with admirable persistence, jaw set in a frown of stubborn concentration that almost hid his emotions.

"So we can expect this again?"

They nodded morosely. _Wonderful…_

He spent the next hour flitting between the Control Room and walking the ship talking to people, trying to ignore the decision he'd already made. It wasn't until Brody pulled him aside that he acknowledged his own unhappy restlessness.

"Do we know who they are yet?" The oblique question drew a smile, even if it was somewhat pained.

"Not yet." Brody frowned, obviously worried.

"I thought…"

"So did I." He sighed, moving closer. They had a right to know, even if he'd rather not tell them. Brody was at least level headed and unlikely to panic; besides, if he wanted to tell the others, he could. _Coward._ Pushing the uncomfortable thought aside, he decided on bluntness.

"He took a turn for the worse yesterday, after the fight." Eyes widened. "He was doing okay when I checked in this morning, and Lieutenant Johansen hasn't since told me otherwise. I think we just…wait it out. I'm going back down there soon. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Colonel," the scientist shifted, and Young was instantly concerned. "There's a lot of unhappy people. They reckon he's to blame for bringing them down on us."

_I don't need this, too._ "If it _is_ the same race, and that's still an 'if', we'd've met them eventually anyway. Besides, it was us that found _them_ the first time. That doesn't count."

"I know, but people don't want to listen. They're scared, and scared people do stupid things." A chill ran down his spine. He knew that only too well, and nodded.

"I'll keep an eye on things. Right now, there's plenty of military in and out of the infirmary. I'll work something out after that. Thank you, Mr Brody."

He sighed in return. "I'm sorry, really; it's something _else_ to add to the workload, but I felt you should know…" he shrugged helplessly.

The Colonel gestured dismissively, "No, don't worry. I agree. I'm going to the infirmary now, I think, and have a chat with TJ, make sure she knows." He patted the worried scientist on the shoulder, and left. _Yet another complication!_ Easy as it would be to blame Rush, not even he could manage to do so- that would be deeply unfair, and besides, he didn't really. Even if it wasn't pure coincidence, and they _were_ somehow tracking the man, Young didn't blame him. _He survived. I pray my two abductees can, too. There's always hope…_

Yeah, just really slim. He paused and gathered himself, again, before turning the last corner to the infirmary. There was no queue this time; rather, people were leaving. A weight lifted from him and he blew out a heavy breath before approaching. Pausing for a quick word, he left them to return to their quarters, satisfied that they were more bruised and shaken than anything else. It was fairly quiet inside, too. Wray was there, as was James; they were applying cool packs, smiling and chatting with their patients. TJ was suturing an older mans' forehead; they too were talking. Only one more bed was occupied, bringing the total to four. _Still, four's enough._ At last she finished and released him. Turning, he caught her unguarded expression, one of weary, triumphant contentment, and his gut clenched when it vanished into a more professional mask upon seeing him.

"Hey." _So different from this morning._ She smiled.

"Hey, you." Smiling in return, he gestured her aside.

"Something for all of you, but first," he kept his tone quiet. "TJ, is there any chance they could be tracking him? Has anything shown up?" The medic frowned, worried.

"Nothing on the scans. I haven't seen anything that doesn't belong there, unless they're using some very advanced biological technology that _Destiny's _scanners can't pick up, but that's unlikely. Do you think they _are_ the same race?"

"Don't know, I'm just ruling out possibilities. We'll give him another day, then I wanna try again. _Don't _look at me like that, Lieutenant. I'm sorry, I know what I said yesterday, but we really need to figure out what's going on, sooner rather than later, and he's still our best bet. Had they not shown up two minutes after we dropped out, I wouldn't be asking, but the fact is- they did. If nothing else, he might be able to think of 'why'." She sighed, but nodded.

"Let's not do what we did yesterday, please?"

"Definitely not. Hell, I don't think _I _can take that again!" Her smile was somewhat lopsided. Looking at the others, he saw them watching with open curiosity and, in Camille's case, not a little suspicion. He waved them over.

"Something you should all be aware of…"

All three were shocked by what he repeated, both Brody's unhappy information and Eli's theory about the planets aliens, which left them particularly sorrowful. They swore to vigilance, and Camille promised to keep an ear out around the ship, see if she could pinpoint anyone in particular and maybe head things off. It would have to do. Checking his watch, he sighed. _No wonder I'm hungry. How did it get to be so late?_

"Eat and sleep, ladies. We may as well use the time to sort ourselves out. We'll be in FTL for about two days, which'll give us chance to recuperate."

"They'll be back, then." It wasn't a question.

"I rather fear so, Ms. Wray. I can't see them giving up anytime soon. And no; we don't know if it's pure luck on their part, or if they're actually tracking us somehow. We may as well prepare for the worst and be pleasantly surprised." He turned to the blonde. "Sorry, Lieutenant, I haven't had chance to read your report. I was interrupted."

"How inconsiderate," she mocked, and the Colonel chuckled slightly, and walked away.

"I'll do it tonight and speak to you tomorrow about it."

_Well, that's the plan. Providing some _other_ crisis doesn't rear its ugly head, anyway._


	6. Keep Fighting

*Dumps chapter.*

*Runs*

-o-0-o-0-o-0o-

_-Record-_

_I wanna go home. I'm not sure I can cope with this. Not sure I can't, either. Catch 22, mom would say. God, I miss her so much._

_Everywhere we go, they're there. Colonel says that Rush agrees they've tagged the ship somehow. Rush says we should do a visual inspection of the hull next time we drop out. Only, next time we drop out, they're right behind. We can't stop to remove the tag because they're there, and they're there because we can't stop to remove the tag. Argh! If it even _is _on the outside. That's a guess. Not found anything inside, but what does that mean? Nothing_.

_I keep scrubbing and scrubbing but my hands still feel bloody. It's horrible. I never knew blood was sticky. And it gets everywhere. It won't come off. And it smells, like metal. It gets up your nose and I can still smell it, even after all the smoke and burning. Oh God it's still under my nails. See? SEE? Okay, breathe, Eli, Breathe. Relax. _

_I thought he was dead. He didn't move and I thought he was dead and there was blood everywhere and I didn't think he was breathing. We can't lose him. I know we haven't gotten along recently, but it never occurred to me that one day he might not be there. So stupidly, too._

_Six days till our next stop. They lost most of the food and water. Six more days on rations, repairing the ship, praying the power doesn't go, pretending like everything's gonna be okay. It's not._

_I need to go scrub my hands again._

_-File saved-_

-o-0-o-0-o-0o-

_Take two, _he thought. He watched her potter about the small room, knowing that she wasn't yet ready to commit. He'd heard the rumours Brody had spoken of himself that morning in the mess, though, and it had hardened his resolve. His rebuke had been firm and somewhat scathing, but there was no way in hell he'd allow that sort of talk to continue, especially not openly. All those idiots were serving to do was divide people when what they all needed right now was unity. They'd looked suitably embarrassed, particularly the two Airmen who he'd left feeling less than six inches tall. What the hell were his people thinking, feeding the civilian doom-mongers? They should know better, and in them he was most disappointed. A sigh drew him back.

"We do this my way or not at all." He raised an eyebrow at her abrupt statement.

"Oh?"

"You stand there, out of sight." _What the fuck?_ She responded to his expression with an eye roll. "Don't look so worried, I'm not going to be in the way. Don't speak or make any noise. Look, Colonel, he'll respond to me far better than he will you. Let's just try this, please?"

He didn't want to. He _really_ didn't want to, but he begrudgingly had to admit that she was right. The best person for Rush to see first was probably the medic, though that didn't mean he had to like it. Everett gave a stiff nod, and her sigh of relief actually hurt a little.

"Okay." She was very careful with the drug she administered, then she stepped back. After a few minutes, when nothing seemed to be working, TJ reached out and touched his hand; the Doctor jerked away.

"Doctor Rush?" He didn't stir at her words, so she gently brushed his cheek. A small grunt, and a hand came up.

"Nicholas Rush? Come on, wake up." She touched the long nose, and the scientist snorted, shifting away, an arm coming up over his head. A ludicrous thought struck him- _she should really have a feather, _and he stifled a chuckle, squashing it firmly at her quelling glare. It was hard not to smile, though.

"Right, Nicky, that's enough." Her tone was surprisingly firm. "Open your eyes. Hey…" he must have done so, Young realised, watching the smile that spread across her lips, to be instantly replaced by a worried frown when Rush tried to move away.

"No, no, don't, please. It's me, TJ. Tamara?" She reached out, and he whimpered. She clutched the bed instead, crouching low. _Damn it, TJ, you weren't gonna get close! _"Please stay, it's okay, really." He suspected her words were for him as much as Rush; he realised he'd moved forward and forced himself to take a step back. "See, just me. It's all safe, sweetie. _Destiny_, remember?"

_Sweetie? _He suppressed a well deserved snort.A full minute passed in silence as she waited, and was at last rewarded with a soft, fearful,

"TJ?" His heart fluttered. _Yes!_

"Yeah, TJ. You're in the infirmary. On _Destiny._ Remember?" After a moment he nodded, though his tone when he spoke was still tremulous.

"Lights?" _Damn._ He'd gotten used to the pale, bleaching effect provided by the lamps, and wondered how it must look to the other man. _Nightmarish. _He studied the livid, angry flesh picked out in sharp relief by the lights, the mottled redness around his wrists, left by the manacles, and the barely healed scars on his cheek and arms, then frowned as the back of the other man's neck caught his attention. _What..?_

"The power's out, Nicholas. We're using lamps. Sorry, hon, it's the best we could do." Quiet again, and he listened to the ragged breathing, still trying to puzzle out the peculiar marks hidden by long hair before glancing up at her. He swelled with pride as he watched the medic, marvelling at how she kept him calm and the situation firmly under control, how she didn't push, but waited, allowing him to work at his own pace, all the while a gentle, firm, pillar of strength.

"Where?" Young frowned, but she simply repeated herself with incredible patience, showing none of the worry he knew she must be feeling.

"The infirmary, Nicholas. On _Destiny._" Everett watched the other mans' fingers flicker, and he shifted in agitation.

"S'not…" Her eyes widened.

"Oh. One of the side rooms. Out of the way. A bit of privacy?" Situation explained, Rush relaxed completely; Young hadn't realised how tense he was.

"Hey, stay with me. Nicholas? I need to ask you something." The scientist went rigid, fingers curling into the sheets. When her eyes came up to meet his, he walked slowly around the bed, careful to keep his distance, but his appearance in the scientist's field of vision still caused a sharply indrawn breath and the Colonel heard him stir.

"Hush, it's okay." She murmured, not taking her eyes from his as Young passed her the pad. "Stay calm, easy question, yes or no. See? Simple." She drew a deep breath, and pushed up to a higher kneeling position before turning the pad to face him.

"Are these ships at all familiar?" Bony fingers reached out and shakily touched the screen, and he gave an awkward shake of his head. Everett spoke, baritone cutting through the quiet.

"Are you sure?"

Eyes snapped up to meet his, and they stared for a long moment; Young fought to keep his gaze steady and calm, the last thing he wanted to do was panic the scientist.

"Practically, yes." He closed his eyes, before looking again at her, and cleared his throat with a grimace; talking was obviously painful. "I'd bet on it."

"Okay…" He wasn't sure how he felt. Adrift, if anything, hollow. Not being the same aliens was good, he hoped, but they had no way now of tracking them. _If ever we could, anyway._ He turned to leave, and the soft voice penetrated his bitter musings.

"Why?" He froze. TJ was equally still, and he sighed. Really, he should have expected the question.

"Rush…We were attacked, by them. Remember?" Given the wide eyed shock that passed over the other mans face, the spasm that wracked his body, Young guessed he did, and pushed onward before the obvious panic could take hold. "We needed to know what we were dealing with." His prayers that Rush would leave it at that weren't answered; even now the scientist was too sharp to miss it.

"Why?"

He looked away, gathering his strength, before meeting again the dark gaze.

"They…took Chloe, Rush. And Airman Dunning. Nearly two days ago now." He watched the other man simply curl up, drawing his arms over his head. "We don't have any way of tracking them." Rush shook his head. _He doesn't want to know._ Young felt an intense flush of anger, which faded into pity. _Not his fault he can't deal with everyone else's shit, too, _he told himself firmly, trying to drown out the angry voice that lingered at the back of his mind. He nodded at TJ, and left, not sure he could bite his tongue in the face of Rush's denial. TJ's quiet voice floated to him, but he knew she was speaking to the scientist and was soon out of earshot.

The Colonel only realised where he was heading as he drew near; the Control Room was occupied, and busy, judging by the number of people he could hear. _Just as well, saves me telling people individually._ Entering, his belief was confirmed; it was indeed a full house. The usual trio, plus Mendes, Franklin and another he assumed was Slade; Ms Wray and Scott, too. Looking at his young protégé, he felt a twinge of unwarranted guilt; he was going to dash all his hopes.

"Colonel!" He nodded to the young mathematician, who flipped him a wave.

"Eli,"

"You'll like this," he was grinning. "Our weapons from before the attack are all fine. We've brought another thirty six per cent online and gotten them fully operational. How's that for cool? We're packing firepower!"

He chuckled. "Good work-"

"I'm not done!" He raised an eyebrow at the plaintive cry. "Lookit this. Saving the best for last, an' all that."

He moved closer, and frowned at the display, scalp prickling in anticipation.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep, a 'super-gun'. And it works! Only problem is, it uses a _huge_ amount of power, like, seriously huge. But hey, super-gun!"

Brody stepped in. "There's either a block, a break or a drain somewhere. We think we can make it more efficient, but between everything else we haven't had time. Besides, we only found it a few hours ago. Eli's right, though- it's cool." His smile was wry.

"That's excellent news, nicely done." Again he was interrupted. Given how excited they all were he decided to ignore it, but he caught Scott's amused expression, knew he was thinking the same thing; _undisciplined civilians…_

"Shields are back up, running at about seventy per cent. Dale, Marie and Mike have made big progress there, even replacing or repairing several interlinking systems that were damaged before we arrived. They'll last longer." His expression turned grim. "We'll give them one hell of a run for their money when they come back. We aren't finished, not by a long shot, a number of the current repairs we've made are bodge-jobs and will need replacing themselves when we get time, but we're looking good."

_We stand a good chance._

"Congratulations to all of you. You've done unbelievably well, and in such a short space of time, too. Since we're gonna be in FTL for another day, I'd suggest getting some downtime, take a well deserved break. God knows you've earned it."

They glowed under his praise, and he decided to risk it.

"I've got some new myself. A bit mixed." That got their attention, and some of the good humour faded. "Rush is awake again and coherent-" he was instantly drowned out by several voices talking at once. When they faded enough that he could speak over them, he continued, "He seems to be doing better. Visiting rules still apply, and don't be surprised it Lieutenant Johansen kicks you out. Or if he's asleep. She'll keep me apprised of his status, and I'll pass it on."

He let them talk among themselves, heard Eli bag the first visiting rights, and smiled. _Timed that right. Makes a nice change to be the bearer of _good_ news. _He noticed Brody looked particularly relieved, and assumed he hadn't told anyone yet. When the scientist caught his gaze and nodded, he knew he'd guessed correctly.

"And the bad news?"

_Of course it'd be her._ Her voice was soft, though, and she seemed genuinely concerned. He sighed.

"It wasn't the same alien race. He's certain of it. I'm sorry." Eli sagged and Matthew looked especially defeated. "We aren't giving up on them. We need to get ourselves in top fighting shape. Next time we get into a dog fight with them, let's try and get ourselves a fighter- it'll have a databank of some sort. We can use that. Don't lose hope. It's a long shot, but we'll keep trying."

They nodded, fierce determination etched on every face as they straightened with renewed purpose. Even his Lieutenant seemed to have regained some of his fire. Brody's tone when he spoke for all of them was resolute.

"We'll be ready."

-o-0-o-

Time flew. The scientists doggedly continued with their repairs, even when there seemed to be no progress made. For the most part, though, they were making headway- there were only a few sections that stubbornly resisted. The repair crews led by the two Lieutenants and Sergeant Greer made good progress, too, and soon most of the downed areas were once again accessible, if not particularly habitable. TJ discharged two of her four patients, retaining only Michael Burge and Ms Peters. The civilians - who he expected had gotten the idea from Eli- hooked up a laptop to a display in one of the smaller science rooms and started up a 'movie club'. Everyone had pooled what movies they had, and when personal collections on I-pods were taken into account they actually had quite a large selection. Gradually the fright of the attacks receded, and people began to laugh again, though they did so quietly, as though they felt guilty for doing so.

Between them, he and Camille -who turned out to be unsurprisingly persuasive and emphatic- had managed to stamp down on most of those ridiculous rumours that had persisted, though even now there were those who questioned the validity of the lead scientists' statement. That wouldn't go away, he suspected, until they had proof one way or another, and so he still had James attached to the infirmary, ostensibly as help but really to keep an eye on things. The Lieutenant seemed to be doing well there; she had a calm bedside manner, and was a likeable person. As a result, he was considering having her permanently attached to TJ when she wasn't busy with her military duties. The medic herself had found time to rest and was doing much better, far more like her old self than she had been in nearly a week. It was good to see her smiling. At the other end of the scale, Matthew worried him. The young man was truly at a loss, and seemed to be sliding into depression; Eli on the other hand, having something productive to do, was working like a madman to fix the ship in time for the next battle. Brody, still nominally in charge and doing well at it was, however, keeping an eye on the mathematician, and an amusing complaint he frequently heard Eli voice was that _'Brody kicked me out.'_ There were few other complaints flying around, which was a relief; everyone appeared to be stepping forward and doing not only that which was necessary, but frequently that which was not. The biggest worry was, of course, their food supplies, but with luck they'd be able to fill up in 10-or-so hour's time. Until then, portions were smaller and everyone accepted that with barely any grumbling.

Telford had paid a surprise visit, and had received the mixed update with his usual thin veneer of poorly concealed scorn. _'One in, two out? Great work there'_. He'd bitten his tongue, though, and had been darkly amused that his counterpart's desire to speak to Rush had been fruitless; the scientist was sleeping and TJ refused to wake him. _'You can come back later,' _she'd told him firmly. Really, it was quite entertaining watching Rush's unwitting passive resistance thwart the other Colonel, especially given his less than pleasant comment. It was a true shame; they used to be such good friends. The scientist in question was awake more frequently and upright under his own power, the first time since they'd brought him back aboard. The medic was reticent about his progress though, and he could understand why. The last week had been such a rollercoaster; she didn't even want to begin making statements of 'fact' given that a relapse would upset a lot of people, particularly Eli who, when chased out of the Apple Core, often hung around with TJ. Not, however, necessarily with Rush, which was interesting. _I'm gonna have to find out why._

Right now, though, it was the medic who had his attention.

"Michael's doing really well. I'm hoping that I'll be able to release him at the end of the week. He'll still need to take it slow, and I'll be keeping an eye on him, but he's looking good" Young smiled- yes, he'd seen that himself. As soon as he'd walked into the infirmary the Airman had called out a cheery greeting from his prone position on the bed. He'd spent several minutes perched on the edge talking to him, and had been pleased at how upbeat the other man was, and at how much stronger he appeared. The Airman would no doubt be disappointed to learn that he would first be relegated to rest upon release, and after that to light duties only. He'd do as he was told, though; the Colonel was certain of that.

"Sarah, too, is doing great. I've still not got the scanner running, but I'm happy enough with her progress that I've let her go. It looks like the nerve damage might not be as bad as I thought, but she's going to need to rest it a lot. It's a shame, she's pretty active. Maybe we'll be able to find something for her to do that can be done sitting down." He nodded.

"There've been no relapses from concussion, no re-injuries. A couple of people have needed help changing dressings, but apart from that, the crew as a whole is looking good."

"And the other one?" He quipped. Her smile lessened.

"He's doing better. It's hard to tell how he _really_ is most of the time, though. He hasn't said much about anything, and for the most part he's been worryingly compliant. It's eerie. If you want to talk to him…"

"No, no," he hastily assured her, "that's okay. I doubt he'd say much to me anyway." _And I honestly don't know what I'd say to him. Besides, what would we talk about?_

She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. What's the plan till we drop back into normal space?"

"Prepare," he answered grimly, and saw her shudder, though her face grew hard. It was, they both knew, likely that as soon as they dropped out again they'd have company. A thought occurred to him.

"Actually, I will talk to him. Walk with me." She followed, curious. "Get me a list of people you specifically want, and numbers you'll need. Exaggerate, rather than be optimistic. I'd rather you had too many hands than not enough. People know to expect it this time, which'll help. I'm hoping to get people that aren't necessary to stay on their beds- not great, but I can't think of anything safer."

"Can you spare Lieutenant James? She's been a big help."

"I'm afraid not. I'll need her leading a repulsion team, but I'll let her know to get to you as soon as we're in the clear." The medic nodded, understanding the necessity.

"I'll let you know." They paused at the door, and Young hesitated only a moment before opening it. The scientist was lying down again, on his side, his breathing deep and even. Everett wondered whether he remembered those few days of frightful half-consciousness. _God, I really hope not. _He stood there, watching for a brief moment, before turning to leave.

"I'm awake." The voice was quiet, and was lost in the room.He moved forward; grabbing the chair he assumed TJ had brought in he turned it backward and straddled it, leaning over the back. He didn't miss the way Rush tensed, nor the frown that crossed his face, and cast around for something to say.

"How are you feeling?" and winced internally. _What a ridiculous question._ Judging by the sardonic half-smile that twisted the other man's lips, he guessed the scientist felt so, too.

"Dandy. Did you want something?"

Young could feel the old defences begin to rise, and counted silently to ten- just enough time for the scientist to lever himself up onto an elbow, thus bringing them more face to face.

"Yes, actually. We're dropping out of FTL in about 10 hours. Just thought you might like to know."

"Super. If ya happen to find any chocolate hob-nobs, grab us a packet."

The Colonel rolled his eyes, irritated and amused at the same time.

"I'll see what I can do. Expect fireworks." He watched the fingers lock, tendons standing out along the back of his hands. There was no other sign the news caused him any distress, however, so Young continued. "Three things: I intend to try and capture an alien fighter." Rush's eyes widened, his expression disbelieving. "Yep. I'm hoping there'll be something in its databanks so we can figure out where these bastards came from, and maybe where they would have taken our missing crew."

"That might actually work." Young nodded; that's what he'd hoped to hear. Rush pursed his lips, thoughtful. "We should be able to configure some of our translation programs. It'll take a while. Don't expect quick results."

A little disappointing, but still much better than it could have been. "Secondly, Eli's discovered a super gun, as he calls it. Three large energy canons. They're concerned by the amount of power it uses- Brody says it's drawing far more than it should. He thinks there's a problem with it."

"Sounds like there's a power bleed somewhere, then. I had a couple of maintenance programs running…They were building a map of the ships systems, though I have no idea if it's finished. Send Brody down. I'll explain how they work. Really, I'm surprised they havnae found them already; they're not exactly hidden."

Young felt himself frowning at the snide tone.

"And?" the Colonel stared at him, blankly, and fought down the urge to throttle the other man when he sounded a derisive snort and continued speaking, his tone patronising. "Ya said there were three things…"

"The aliens. Wanna hazard a guess as to how they keep finding us?"

Rush looked away, eyes distant.

"Either, they know where we're going based on the path we've already taken; they have a way of tracking us; or they can see us in FTL- which is unlikely. Nor am I aware of the ship leaking anything that could leave a trail, so I'd go for option two. They've probably managed to tag the ship somehow. That makes the most sense. Doesn't explain why we've not seen them before, mind. Maybe it's something else entirely. Meh."

The Doctor didn't sound particularly bothered, and Young struggled to keep the irritation he felt from showing. _How can he be so blasé? _Silence followed, and he waited, wondering whether Rush was going to actually ask about the ship, the crew or their current situation. He hadn't so far, and it was damned unusual for the man not to be sticking his nose in. _He may not care about us, but you'd think he'd be worried about the ship. _Time ticked by. Nothing. _Well, if you can't be bothered to ask, I sure as hell ain't offering anything else._ He stood abruptly, well aware that his temper was running close beneath the surface, and equally as aware that TJ would string him up by his shoe-laces if he lost it in here.

"You should sleep," he offered, and scowled at the other man's sarcastic retort.

"Well, I was trying to before I was interrupted. I'm sure ya can find your own way out, Colonel. Night-night."

"Get ya head out of your damn arse for once, Rush," the Colonel snapped, and stormed to the doors, slapping the door release harder than was necessary and stamping out into the brighter light of the adjoining walkway. It was only when he was halfway back to the main infirmary and had calmed down slightly that he realised Rush had flinched when he'd stood. Pausing, he wondered briefly if the Doctor's acerbic response had been a reaction to his own startlement. _Know what? I don't give a damn. I am so sick of playing his games._ He drew a deep breath, and proceeded across the room to the exit in a calmer fashion.

"Bye?"

He whirled. TJ sat at her desk, twisted round to look at him, a bewildered expression on her face.

"Sorry, TJ. That man has the unique ability to wind me up simply by breathing. I figured I'd take my temper elsewhere." He clamped his mouth shut, berating himself for rambling, knowing that he really shouldn't be explaining his attitude. _Calm down, Everett._

"Foresight. Fair enough. Colonel, I know he can be a sod, but you know that every time he gets a reaction out of you, it just makes him smugger you angrier. Ignore him."

"Easier said than done. If I react, it's wrong, and if I don't react, he takes it as a victory and gets worse." He sighed. "Now that his charming personality's coming back, I might just stay away. Of course, he'd see that as a victory, too." Young wondered if that sounded as bitter as he thought it did. _Hope not._ She sighed.

"Maybe. You two expend so much effort trying to get one better than the other, it's amazing you have time for anything else. Being confined isn't helping his temper, Sir- as I recall, you don't make a particularly good patient either." She fixed him with a pointed look, and he squirmed, knowing it was true. "I do wish you two could get along."

"You actually like him, don't you? _How?_"

She looked uncomfortable. "I wouldn't call us friends, exactly, but he doesn't treat me like an idiot, either. We get on alright. Maybe I just ask the right questions. If it's any consolation, he's been just as rude to me as he is to most people, just less often."

"And you still talk to him?"

"Sir, if I didn't ever talk to people who at one point or another were rude or offensive or just plain unkind, I wouldn't talk to anybody." She wasn't looking at him.

He winced. _Ouch._ Her easy, quiet acceptance that people could all be equally unpleasant deflated him somewhat, and that familiar guilt twinged in his stomach. He couldn't even justifiably take offence at that, though he was fairly certain she was intentionally implying what she seemed to be implying.

"That's a bleak way of looking at things, Lieutenant."

"True, though." _Hang on, how did we get onto this subject? _Realising that there was no chance of making a graceful exit, he decided to bite the bullet and beat a hasty retreat. _Coward._

"Perhaps. I'll speak to you later, Lieutenant."

He didn't wait for her acknowledgement, simply fled. The quiet dark of the ancient vessel suited his mood perfectly, and he found himself brooding as he moved along the corridors. All of a sudden, it felt like everyone was conspiring against him. _Oh, grow up. _His feet carried him toward the Control Room, and he was set upon as he crossed the threshold.

"Colonel! Good news; we have full shields back." He smiled at Eli, his good humour returning. That boy really was infectious, but in the nicest sense.

"Excellent, that's good work. How're the repairs coming?"

"Fine," Brody responded. "We're still working on the second compartment, but everything else looks good. Weapons are coming along nicely. Ah, and Eli's rigged a couple of Kinos up in observation," he gestured to two screens on the far wall, "pictures not great, but we should be able to see something."

Young chuckled. "Nicely done. Mr Brody, I've just come from the infirmary. Rush said that he left a couple of programs running which should help you pinpoint where the problem with the 'super gun' is."

Brody straightened. "I'll go now. The sooner we get that up and running, the better. I don't think we can risk using it yet, not the way it is, anyway. Certainly not till we've refuelled." He grabbed a laptop, but turned back. "Oh, Sergeant Greer was looking for you. Something about Robin Hood and his merry men? He said he'd be in storage lockup six."

"Thank you." Brody nodded, and left. He looked to the others, noting Eli's disappointment. "Finish up what you're doing, and grab something to eat if you haven't done so already. I'll be back later."

He had a good idea of what Greer had meant, and he felt excitement building as he moved through the ship. There was something about bows and arrows that stirred the inner child; fond memories of playing Cowboys and Indians came to him, and he remembered childhood friends he hadn't thought of in decades.

Storage six was one of the larger storage rooms, though they currently weren't using it as such. They'd never managed to fix temperature control in there, nor the lighting. Against the far wall was a series of pipes that creaked and groaned like some haunted castle, adding to the overall chill ambience. All in all, there were far more hospitable lockups to choose from, and though this was a big one, they generally ignored it. It simply didn't feel right. The last thing they needed was to creep themselves out with ghost stories.

He pushed the door release; then a second time when it didn't respond. It laboured open, and he stepped within, shuddering involuntarily at the rush of cooler air. Blinking, the Colonel stared dumbfounded at the dozen battery lamps scattered around. _Where the hell did you find all those?_ Seeking out the man in question, he noticed various tools and lengths and slithers of wood littering the floor. And the front shelving. And stacked against the wall. It looked like a carpenters workroom had exploded.

"Greer?"

A figure jumped up from a huddle about halfway down.

"Sir, over here." He could hear the humour in the other man's voice. Making his way over, he saw a large bundle of cloth down the other end, lit by two lamps and impaled by a number of thin shafts. He found himself grinning.

"It works?"

"Yes, Sir, that it does." The lazy, innocent drawl couldn't quite hide Greer's enthusiasm. "Damn well, too. Wanna go?"

Like he was going to say no. He took the bow, feeling awkward, but was guided through the motions by a youngish man with dark brown hair and an amused smile. He'd never fired a longbow before, but it wasn't much different from his hazy childhood recollections. Four arrows, three on the target. Just. He chuckled and handed it over.

"Simon Livick, I presume?"

"Yes, Colonel. That wasn't bad, you know." He set the bow down. "I'm hoping we can get a good couple dozen of the crew interested, which should give us a handful of very good archers. It'll take time and a lot of practice, but I think it'll work. Sergeant Greer's pretty good, as is Paul." He gestured to another man, and Young nodded.

"You're welcome to borrow the Sergeant when he's free. How do you know about all this?"

"My granddad, actually. Loved archery, campcraft, living off the land, that sort of thing. He taught me a lot about archery and survival. And to think, my mom thought it was a waste of time!" He laughed and led the Colonel to a workbench.

"Really, this whole process should take a few weeks. I've set a few aside and dated them. Don't expect the ones we're going to use on the next planet to last long; they're too green still and they'll warp quickly. The ones I've put aside, however, should season nicely. It's been a lot of trial and error- I'm sure you noticed the mess! But I'm pretty confident that with some care these will last us some time." He patted four lengths of wood that were strapped flat against long metal pipes. "Another week or so and we can start tillering these. That'll take a while. If you're gonna do a job, do it properly, as they say."

They looked to where Greer and Paul were busy practising. Livick hesitated.

"If you've got time Colonel, you're welcome to stay…"

He grinned.

-o-0-o-

"Still nothing." Eli shifted nervously.

"If nothing else, Sir, we need water."

"I don't like it, but…" He sighed, massaging his temples. "Go. Take Greer with you, two full teams. You aim for the water, Greer will get supplies. Be _quick._"

Scott nodded sharply, and jogged away, calling orders into his radio.

He wasn't the only one uneasy about this. Brody and Eli both seemed on the verge of speaking; Park was chewing a hangnail, something she only did when nervous. His young Lieutenant was correct, though- they needed water. Food they could do without, at a push, but water…

The Colonel studied the planet on the monitor. Brody hadn't been wrong; the picture was grainy and slightly blurred, but it was still eyes on the situation, so to speak. The vast sphere hung indifferent and uncaring, a glimmer or oranges and dark blues against the endless dark tapestry of unforgiving space. It set his teeth on edge.

'_Scott to Colonel Young, we're heading down.'_

"Good luck and God speed. Out."

Eight Hours. He didn't intend to have feet on the ground that long, and wouldn't be happy till they were all safely back aboard. _Quick as possible please, Matt. Let's not invite trouble._

Movement at his elbow made him turn, and he accepted the mug held out to him with a faint smile, grateful for something to keep his hands busy. It was going to be a long wait. Especially if Eli didn't stop tapping that damn pencil. He was in the process of turning when Brody beat him to it, his voice a weary sigh.

"Eli…"

"Oops. Sorry." Young smiled.

"Any progress on the Orb?"

"Some. Not a lot. Haven't really had the time, y'know? Still, I think we're getting there."

"Good." He waited. "And the weapons? Any idea?"

"Umm, I know they took one apart. Don't know what they've done with it. sorry…"

"The Super-gun?" His use of Eli's name for it drew a weak smile.

"Found the problem. Still working to fix it, I'm afraid. Maybe we'll get time…"

He sighed as the conversation trailed off, and didn't bother fishing for something new. It felt too forced, too great an effort when all attention was locked elsewhere.

"Eli…"

"Sorry." The sound of drumming fingers stopped. Young shifted, eyes on the monitor. The headache began to build again; he ignored it. _Never used to get tension headaches. Then again, I guess this level of tension is new._ He checked his watch.

11:13

_9 minutes._

The wait was agonising. Stress crawled over his skin leaving gooseflesh in its wake; he could feel it in his bones, an agitation that knew no ease. He was suddenly glad for the silence; if anyone had tried speaking to him, he'd snap. Suddenly, the mug against his lips was empty.

11:21

_17 minutes. _

A presence at his shoulder. _Camille. _He acknowledged her with a nod, which she returned. No words were exchanged, but in that moment they were unified as they rarely were. They watched in strained silence

"How long have they been gone?"

11:27

"23 minutes. Not long." _Just a lifetime. _She nodded.

It was the suddenness that was unreasonably shocking. There was no warning, and things happened too fast to do anything but hang onto the ride, piling on top of each other with such speed that Young would never work out what came first; the shudder through _Destiny_, him spinning and lunging for the console, Eli's groaned 'Oh God', fumbling for his radio, the chime of the ships warning system, such as it was. Perhaps it was him shouting for weapons. At some point he heard Wray gasp. Was that before or after? During?

There was no prevention, no solution, things just _were._

And suddenly time was speeding up again before they had chance to catch their breath. It had no right to do that.

"Get the gate open! Tell them to haul ass back to the ship!" Circuitry exploded overhead, showering them in sparks. They ducked reflexively. Young cursed, and grabbed the console with both hands as the vessel rocked.

"Two enemy vessels. Returning fire."

_Don't jump._

"Keep us here!" His voice was desperate, he knew. Could see his panic reflected in the faces of the others. He would never forget Eli's expression- aching helplessness. He couldn't breathe, he hurt too much.

"I don't know how!"

_Please God._ _Not this._ Twelve people, and some his best. His heart wept even as his stomach twisted in grief.

'_They've established a wormhole! They're on their way.' _Elation.

_Just a few minutes, please…_

"Will we jump with a wormhole open? Damn it, Eli? Brody?"

"I don't _know!_" The youth wailed, clinging to the workstation before him. "We barely know how the jumps work, let alone an emergency jump!"

_Damn it-_

"Damn it! They're launching shuttles." They turned to Brody, who obviously had his hands full.

"Shields are at 92% and holding." He nodded at Dr Park.

"Eli, help Brody. Camille, get down the infirmary, same as before," he staggered across to the communication console, falling against it as the ship _twisted_, the deck falling away beneath him with a gut wrenching lurch. He dragged himself upright, barely registered the others doing the same. "James, Marsden, Marlyn form repulsion teams, four to a detail." He slapped the comm. button, "Listen up, this is Young. We are under attack. Return to your quarters and hang tight. Young out."

A shudder. The lights went. A small hiccup of caught breath that sounded like Eli.

Illumination.

"Incoming!" They braced themselves. Barely. The radio was slick in his sweaty hand; with the other he brushed moisture from his forehead.

"Volker, where the hell are they?"

'_On their way. Amanda's at the gate keeping it open.'_

A distant, dull pounding noise echoed through the ship like drums as the smaller vessels beat against the vast hull, and the deck vibrated in time to it. His eyes were caught by the hazy Kino footage and he caught his breath. Long streaks of light shot from _Destiny, _wreaking devastation along their path. There were just so _many_ enemy ships. With so many of her guns online, it was truly ugly out there, and he wondered briefly what _Destiny_ would have been like in her hey-day.

"Nice shooting." Brody answered with a tight smile.

Young straightened, and no sooner had he done so when the ship was rocked by an almighty blast, the air knocked from their lungs as they were thrown like rag dolls.

His vision exploded in a riot of colour as agony lanced through his skull. But only briefly. After that, there was nothing.

A shrill voice penetrated the dark. _Stop shouting…_

"Please, wake up…" _It's too early. _

.

.

.

.

"Colonel?" _Go away…_

.

.

.

"Don't…ake me…coz I will." _Huh?_

.

.

"Open your eyes. _Please._"

He wished he hadn't. That _hurt. _Light stabbed like needles in his brain.

"Wha'?" he groaned. The bed beneath him shuddered. _Huh?_

"Oh thank God!" Having left the blackness, he couldn't return to it, however much he wanted to, and, as consciousness returned, so did awareness. But not memory. _Not a bed. The floor. What happened?_ He tried to move, and promptly gave up, and became aware of a voice babbling above him somewhere.

"Eli…"

"Sorry!" Hands clutched his flight suit in a death grip. He tried to sit up, but his senses were swamped and he collapsed backwards, muscles quivering. Sight and hearing slowly returned. _Note to self, don't do that again._

Touch upon his face. Pressure on his brow. _Oww…_

"Eli?"

"Please stay awake. Please." The last was a desolate whisper. _Aww, I guess you do still care._

"And please don't smile like that. It's creepy." He chuckled, and regretted it as hammers pounded on his skull. _Think._

"Wha' ha'pnn'd?" he frowned. That didn't sound right. Opening his eyes, a bloodless face swam into view above him, wavering in and out. The eyes were more than a little wild, his expression one of barely controlled panic. Or possibly terror. It was hard to tell. A firework exploded above them, brightening the gloom, and Eli flinched. He tracked its fall absentmindedly. _Pretty._

A hand patted his cheek.

"You hit your head. Hard. It won't stop bleeding!" Eli swallowed, hard. He raised a hand to his forehead; it came away red.

Reality stretched, the jump played havoc with his battered senses and he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the nausea.

"They're all back aboard." _Brody? They?_ He grabbed Eli's arm, though the movement left him shaking, and squeezed.

"What-"

"The alien attack- Scott and everyone were on the planet, remember?" And suddenly he did.

"Up…" The mathematician helped him struggle upright, and he fought to hold onto consciousness even as his vision fogged out and blood roared in his ears. It took a few moments to clear his head enough to focus, then he looked up. He could just make out the two scientists through the fritzing, madly dancing lights, but it was enough. Both looked worse for wear. Park hugged one arm close to her chest, working one-handed while tears ran down her cheeks. Her dark hair was badly dishevelled, and a nasty bruise was forming along her jaw. He winced in sympathy. Brody wasn't in much better a state, though nothing seemed broken. The relief in his eyes when they caught his gaze was touching, and not a little worrying.

"How long was I out?"

"A few minutes. Not long. Long enough, though. You okay?"

Honesty bit him. "Not really. Guess I'll live, though." He managed a smile, suspecting it looked more like a grimace. "You three?"

"Lisa's wrist is broken. We're all pretty beat up. That hit was a fluke, by all appearances. As far as I can tell, it hit a live external power relay, which resulted in one helluva shockwave. We're bleeding power like you wouldn't believe. It's okay," he said hurriedly, waving him down when he tried to rise, "I've been re-routing power around it. I should-"

'_Colonel Young, James here. I think we have a situation.'_

His blood ran cold. Reaching for his radio, he found it missing; before he could ask, Eli was holding it out to him. Young frowned at the deep red covering the kid's hands. _Is that mine?_

"Report."

'_Sir, we've got noise above us, on the hull. I think we've got company.'_

"Fall back to a defensible position, Lieutenant. The last thing you need is to be dodging grenades. I'm on my way. Scott, get yourself and a team down there. Volker, get to the Control Room"

'_Yes, Sir.'_

'_Yes, Colonel.'_

'_Will do.'_

It was with great care that he rolled onto his hands and knees, ignoring Eli's squawks of protest, before levering himself gingerly to his feet. Young grabbed the console when his knees buckled, and he fought down nausea, leaning over the console and drawing breath in ragged gasps.

"You can't be up! TJ'll kill you!" That was worthy of a somewhat breathless laugh. He took the bloodied cloth and pressed it to the wound. Straightening was difficult, walking even harder. Despite his objections, Eli helped him to the doorway, knowing the Colonel wouldn't be dissuaded and therefore deciding the best thing he could do was help. He turned back briefly.

"Can you manage alright?"

"Yeah. Just…be careful?"

He didn't trust his head not to fall off if he nodded. "Will do." Leaning on the wall with one hand, he left, making his slow and painful way to where he knew James would be patrolling. _Really, not one of your better ideas, Everett._ He didn't disagree, a large part of him wishing he'd let Scott handle it. _Speak of the devil._ He straightened, releasing the wall.

"Colonel? What happened?" He grinned at the Lieutenants' dismayed expression, chuckling when the younger man winced.

"That bad, huh? Hit a console."

"Sir…let us deal with this. You should go see TJ." _So tempting._ He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hurt, and this tired.

"Nah, nearly there. Race ya?" Scott shook his head, obviously fighting the urge to smile.

He looked at the Lieutenant, _really _looked, and his skin tingled cold as he remembered his silent prayers. Or rather, pleas. _So close…_

_Thank you…_

Scott stepped closer and, without bothering to ask took his free arm and drew it to his shoulders, determined to support his Colonel even if he _was _hell bent on self destruction. Everett swallowed hard and accepted the gesture with grace. They moved out.

'_Colonel, James. They're cutting through. We're in position.'_

It was Scott who answered. "Hang tight, we're nearly there." They quickened their pace, eager, though nervous anticipation of the battle to come firing them and lending them speed. A grim, feverish excitement lit Scott's eyes, and his own.

_By God, we'll have some answers._

'_They're through.'_ Her voice was calm, controlled. Again, Scott answered. He didn't hear, wrapped in his own thoughts. _Two minutes. Hang on._

Her voice was barely a whisper when next she spoke, shaken and fragile and unrecognisable.

'_Oh, Scott…'_

-o-0-o-0-o-0o-

Ok, I figured I'd kept you all waiting long enough for this, without my boring you with waffle right at the start! Sorry for the MASSIVE delay. I know I said it'd be a quick post. I don't think I'm gonna promise that again. RL got in the way, though that's no excuse, I know. Truly, this chapter just did not want to write. Bugger. And my mojo went walkabout. I've locked it in a box, but I must remember to feed it or it'll chew its way out and run off again.

I shall say instead, I shall endeavour to get the next chapter posted within a reasonable space of time.

This posting is a tad rushed, so any mistakes (aside from the usual differences in English) please throw at me :)

Umm, reviews, please? Admittedly, I don't deserve them, but it would be nice. And welcome to all the people that have added me to alert during my hiatus. I'll repeat here- I won't ever leave a story unfinished, so have no fear that I'll leave it hanging for ever and ever.


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